


Eat Your Heart Out!

by spacegirlkj



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tokyo Ghoul, Angst, Blood, Gore, Implied Sexual Content, Multi, all of the violence that comes with tokyo ghoul, bokuto is a film student!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:36:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7698541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegirlkj/pseuds/spacegirlkj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tell me, do you read the Catholic bible?"<br/>"No, sir."<br/>"Well, there's this one quote, about the wolf and the lamb, lying together in perfect harmony. There's something to be said about being able to throw yourself, cut up and bleeding to the sharks, just waiting to be eaten. Now, Bokuto Koutarou, do you consider yourself a masochist or a suicidal maniac, or simply fooled by the wolves in sheep's clothing?"<br/>In a world where man-eating creatures call ghouls lurk in the shadows, there is a boy who stumbles into a world he never knew existed.<br/>—<br/>A Tokyo Ghoul Au</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. bite

**Author's Note:**

> it seems that i cant make a chaptered fic where there isn't some kind of gore. oh well.  
> so yes, this is a 3rd gym tokyo ghoul au (some knowledge of the universe required, google it or something) and i really hope you guys enjoy this !!!!! i'm hoping to cap this at 50k or 10 chapters, but i have everything nicely planned out !!!! please enjoy!!  
> (for reference, this takes place in a timeline separate to the current tokyo ghoul/re universe, meaning those characters don't exist in this story.)  
> (unbeta'd)

Tokyo is busy in the fall. Crisp, cool weather, windy mornings, big knit sweaters and warm mugs of coffee. Bokuto grinned as the barista handed him his latte, thanking her with a smile as he balanced his bag over his shoulder. Looking around at the bustling café, he spotted a small table, meant for two, by the window. Practically running and very nearly knocking over his coffee, Bokuto raced into the seat, relishing the comfy padding and the way the tall chair made him kick at the legs like a child. He was all smiles as he placed his coffee down on the table and began to set up.

Splaying out his history textbook, he opened up his laptop and typed in his password, opening his script writing account and the file he was working on. Grabbing his notebook from his bag, he flipped to the bookmarked page.

Bokuto was a filmmaker, or, a film student, at least. If there was anything he loved more than playing sports, sleeping, or owls, it was watching someone’s face light up as they watch a movie, seeing the way videos can bring people to tears, make them laugh. He grew up on action films and horror from his mother, and slow paced intellectual drama from his dad, so a passion had budded at a young age.

Which is why he sat there, in his third year of university, planning out yet another short film.

Slipping on his headphones and scrolling to his creating playlist, he drowned out the noises of idle chatter and coffee machines in favour of chill beats, humming bass and calm piano. The music swirled through his head as he began working through the rough notes he had, fixing them up and adding more depth to them.

Every so often, he’d look over to the history textbook, flip through to check the accuracy of what he was writing, before pouring back into the story, humming along to the music and typing away. He grabbed for his coffee, taking a sip as he changed the wording, making sure to add a side note for Future Directing Bokuto.

He wasn’t snapped out of his creative trance until the most beautiful boy he had ever scene walked right up to his table, and sat down.

Bokuto froze for a moment, looking up from his laptop with his coffee halfway to his mouth. The man across from him smirked, possibly the hottest thing Bokuto had ever seen, and Bokuto raised an eyebrow in response, sipping his drink and tearing his eyes away from the gorgeous man.

He had messy black hair that fell over his eye and stuck up at the back, looking like he either spent three hours styling it or rolled out of bed that way. His skin was tanned, and the creme sweater complemented his catlike eyes as he pulled out a book and began to read, occasionally sipping at his drink.

Really, Bokuto didn't deserve this. All he wanted was to create in peace, but a model like man had decided to show up unannounced with his beautiful face and his beautiful smirk and make Bokuto write refrigerate instead of recognize. Bokuto turned up his music another notch, letting the sounds distract him from Mr. Gorgeous in front of him.

He focused back into his screenplay, editing the finished scene. It was hard to work as quickly as he was with Mr. Gorgeous distracting him.

Bokuto pushed away his thoughts as he sipped his coffee and started another scene. _The guy probably needed a place to sit,_ he reasoned _. It’s busy, and there is space here, so he took it._

That didn't change the fact that Bokuto couldn’t keep himself from glancing up at the man, tearing his eyes away from his work to admire him. He was gorgeous, and Bokuto _really_ needed to focus. He snapped his eyes back on his laptop, refuses to look at the man.

It wasn't until he reached for his coffee, when he was forced to look away from his screen, that he saw Kuroo’s lips move, his eyes flicker to meet his. With speed he didn't know he possessed, Bokuto pushed his earbuds off of his head and pulled the mug of coffee closer to him.

“Sorry, what?” He asked, taking a sip before leaning forward onto his elbows to give the man his attention.

“I was complementing your music, dude.” The boy said, motioning to his headphones. “Who’s it by?”

“Uh, Loyle Carner. To be honest, it was in a commercial, I just thought it sounded sick so I downloaded it.” He said, leaning back into his chair.

“Nice!” He exclaimed. “I’m Kuroo, by the way. Kuroo Tetsurou.” He said, flashing a devilish grin.

“Bokuto Koutarou, and do you wanna listen?” Bokuto offered, slipping the headphones around his head and handing them to Kuroo.

Kuroo looked surprised, but he nodded enthusiastically, taking the headphones and slipping them on his head. Bokuto rewinded the song and watched as Kuroo’s face filled with wonder as he listened to the lyrics and soft beats. He nodded his head along to the beat, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Bokuto smiled as he watched Kuroo enjoy the music, and he began to half work on his screenplay, half watch Kuroo smile as he jammed out to the music.

He looked beautiful, and Bokuto found himself smiling along with him.

When the song ended, Bokuto was typing something out quickly. Kuroo looked apologetic as he handed back the headphones, he hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry, I got carried away. You’re working I didn't mean to bother.” He said sheepishly.

Bokuto waved his hand taking another sip of his almost finished coffee. “It’s cool, man. I’m glad you liked it. Besides, I was only half working anyway.”

Kuroo’s eyes lit up with curiosity as he leaned forwards. “What’cha working on?” He asked, a sly smirk on his face.

“Short film.” Bokuto stated, feeling pride swell in his chest. “I’m using that song in it, actually. The concept is applying ancient history to modern day and telling the story using only that. It’s gonna be metaphorical as shit, dude.”

Kuroo nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard the phrase ‘metaphorical as shit’ used before, but if it applies anywhere, it’d be here.” He said, laughing slightly. He bit his tongue as he laughed, the pink sticking out from his bright white teeth. Bokuto’s stomach flipped because, shit, he was cute too.

Bokuto laughed, saving his file before closing his laptop. “Anyways, I’m in my third year of university, and making films and posting them to youtube actually gives me enough revenue to live somewhere other than campus. I like morning jogs, music, and long walks on the beach. What about you?”

Kuroo laughed at Bokuto’s last comment, helping him slip his textbook into his bag. “Well, there’s not much to say. I work at a tattoo parlour, and I really like cats and science, especially chemistry.”

Bokuto hummed in response. “Another artsy type, oho? Chemistry is cool, I was always better with bio though.” He said. He thought for a moment, before asking another question. “So, Kuroo Tetsurou, what’s your favourite movie, season, and food.”

Kuroo thought for a moment, rubbing his chin in mock deep thought. He grinned, before leaning forwards onto his elbows. “ _Interstellar_ , summer, and I'm not sure. Food is food, I guess.” He said with a shrug.

Bokuto shook his head a look of disbelief on his face. “I love _Interstellar_ but I think my favourite is still _Inside Llywen Davis_ , I like spring, and I agree, all food is good food.”

Kuroo nodded, smiling. The crowds in the café had mostly disappeared, leaving two people waiting for their drinks, them, and the baristas. The television that was propped onto the wall facing the customers was displayed on a news station, and the report was completely audible.

“ _In recent news, the ghoul known as_ The Phoenix _has evaded capture again, slaughtering another team of CCG investigators. Most of their corpses were not found, and_ The Phoenix _has an official SS ranking. This ghoul has been known to act unpredictably and without mercy. People in the highlighted wards are asked to stay indoors at dark and report any suspicious activity to the CCG.”_

Kuroo sighed, turning back to Bokuto. Bokuto thought he saw Kuroo roll his eyes, but he brushed it off. He whistled, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Damn.” Bokuto said, shaking his head. “Anyways, do you want some more coffee? I’ll buy.”

Kuroo took another deep breath before a smile made it’s way back onto his face. “Sure, just black for me.”

Bokuto wrinkled his nose. “You’re a monster.” He said in mock offence, grabbing their mugs and walking up to the counter.

Kuroo laughed, and the both of them felt their hearts fluter.

* * *

 Kuroo walked back into his apartment, filled with coffee, a new phone number, and feelings, to see his friend covered in blood, straddling a dead body on the kitchen counter.

Akaashi was always a bit more than a friend, though. A good friend, of course, someone who knew him almost inside out, but something was missing from the equation.

It was also worth mentioning that finding him hovering over a bloody corpse was a semi-regular occurrence.

Akaashi’s head snapped up when Kuroo opened the door. His eyes were their normal grey blue colour, but there was a large splatter of blood on his cheek. Kuroo bit his lip, taking a deep breath as Akaashi relaxed.

“How was your walk?” Akaashi asked, completely nonchalant. Granted, the situation was fairly normal for them. 

Kuroo shrugged, smiling at the memory. “I stopped for coffee, talked to a film student. Is that-”

“An investigator, yes.” Akaashi said, licking the blood off his finger. “I ate two on the spot, the other two I packaged away, but I got hungry while doing the third. Want some?” He offered, motioning to the half cleanly cut/half mangled body.

Kuroo instinctively lurched forwards at body, but stopped himself before he could get too close. Akaashi rolled his eyes.

“You haven't eaten in three weeks, you’re going to go insane. Look at you, your kakugan is already out.” He said, motioning to Kuroo's eyes, which had changed to black and red. Akaashi swung his legs of the body and hopped off the counter. Wiping the blood on his hands onto his shirt, Akaashi stepped away from the body, letting Kuroo practically charge at the chance to eat something.

As Kuroo devoured the flesh left on the body’s thighs, he felt his conscious return. The flesh made his stomach stop seizing, made the blood pumping in his ears slow. Once he pulled away, the guilt racked him slightly. Kuroo pushed it away, scowling. It was a dove, after all.

As he washed off his face, Akaashi began breaking up the bones, throwing him in a bag he had out. He crushed the bones into small bits and pieces, almost as fine as a dust, before tying off the bag.

Kuroo turned back to face him, face and hands clean, eyes back to normal. Akaashi still had blood on his lips, but the pair of them seemed significantly more calm. Or, at least, as calm as they could be with the elephant in the room.

“SS ranking, huh? Ought to through you a party, you’re in the big leagues.” Kuroo said, his voice casual but his eyes piercing.

Akaashi matched his gaze, his stare challenging. “Kuroo, I’m doing fine, I don’t need you to mother me.”

Kuroo let his glare drop, taking a step closer to Akaashi to brush a hair out of his face. “I’m just worried, is all.”

Akaashi looked up at him, his eyes soft. Kuroo knew he should move away, but the look on Akaashi’s face was telling him otherwise, and his hand involuntarily moved to the small of Akaashi’s back.

Akaashi let out a deep sigh, falling into Kuroo’s embrace. Kuroo’s arms felt like home, and Akaashi smelt like blood and lemon laundry detergent. Kuroo’s heart fluttered the second time that day, but for a different person.

Damn, he needed to sort out his feelings.

Akaashi pulled away, his hand lingering on Kuroo’s arm longer than needed, his eyes never tearing away.

“I’ll let you know when I leave to hunt or fight again, alright?” He said, voice low and quiet. Kuroo nodded, understanding that was Akaashi’s way of apologizing. He smiled, soft and warm down at the shorter.

“Tsukishima’s coming over again.” Akaashi said. “To sleep.”

Kuroo scoffed, plopping down onto the couch. “What’s stopping him from moving in?” He asked. 

Akaashi shrugged as he sat down next to him, curling up into Kuroo’s side. He was still quite bloody, but not enough that it’d drip onto the couch.

“His pride.” Akaashi responded.

Kuroo laughed, nodding at the truth in Akaashi’s deadpan joke.

Akaashi was cool, his icy toes curling under Kuroo’s for warmth. His raven hair was slightly messed up, but still looked as shiny and soft as ever. Akaashi was soft, with slight and round curves, but at the same time sharp, with angular hipbones, toned arms, legs, abs, and hidden muscles under his pale skin. Kuroo rubbed his side as Akaashi feel asleep on his side.

Kuroo admired Akaashi. He was strong and dangerous and deadlier than Kuroo could even comprehend, and yet, he was humble and reserved, saving his small smiles and light laughs for moments between two friends. Kuroo felt cozy next to Akaashi, the warm feeling of having enough mutual trust and deep friendship to leave themselves venerable like this spreading through his body. 

Deep friendship, sure, but Kuroo sometimes wondered if it was more. He knew Akaashi did too. Whatever, neither boy did a thing. They sat, lying wait, wondering, in the corners of their minds, if the other would taste of iron and coffee too bitter. Wonder, wonder, wonder.

* * *

 It was later when Tsukishima comes over, the tall blond’s hair ruffled and windswept as he stepped through the doorway. He carried a mask in his hand, the fabric torn and crumpled as he threw it onto the table when he came in. Kuroo sighed: Tsukishima smelt like human and sterile gloves, a scent that was carried by one group.

“Doves caught me earlier today.” He said, nodding in acknowledgement to Akaashi as he entered. “One of them ripped my mask. I can pay for the repair.”

Kuroo grinned, waving him off. “It’s fine, you’re a friend. Where are they now?” He asked, fingering the fabric with his thumb.

“Dead.” Tsukishima replied, pinching his brow. “There was only one.”

Akaashi sighed through his nose, moving to hand the taller a cup of coffee. “Be careful.”

Tsukishima scoffed. “Like you can talk.”

Kuroo sighed. “Neither of you can. But I’ll put it aside, because it was a dove. Did you know who?”

Tsukishima shook his head, eliciting a dramatic groan from Kuroo as he flopped onto the spring-shot couch. Kuroo didn’t like needless killing, he didn’t enjoy it one bit. But it was a different story for the CCG.

Akaashi and Tsukishima talked, bouncing spite off of each other. Tsukishima’s long fingers were delicately holding his cup, his index swirling in the air as he spoke about one thing or another. Kuroo watched Akaashi watch Tsuki, he watched the way his eyes lingered for a moment too long, how Tsukishima would notice and challenge, how they both would dart their eyes to Kuroo, aware of his stare.

Kuroo did his best not to groan at the headache forming. God, they were a mess. He collected Tsukishima’s empty cup, making a witty remark before meandering to the small ‘kitchen,' a fridge, hardly filled pantries, sink, and a dishwasher. He pulled open the door, slipping the cup in with as little noise as possible, before leaning forward onto the cheap counter and letting out a sigh.

Nervous. He was nervous, as always. He used to be called a mother hen, and although he never let his nerves hold him back, they always stayed, ever present in the back of his mind. He knew that Akaashi and Tsukishima could take care of themselves, but it was hard to believe sometimes. 

That wasn’t the only reason Kuroo’s stomach was writhing. No, it was far from. His stomach flipped and his throat tightened because the ever present tension that always seemed to settle between the three was thicker than ever, suffocating him as he tried to breath in Akaashi’s scent, blinding him as he tried to admire Tsuki’s skin. Annoying, annoying, feelings were.

Kuroo took a deep breath, steadying himself before entering the living space again. The flat was so small, and the pair, who were now nestled beside each other on the couch, were talking quietly. Akaashi said something that made Tsukishima crack a smile, and the sight made Kuroo’s heart flutter. It was a rare sight, and Kuroo treasured those moments they shared.

After all, you never know if the other will make it home.

* * *

 Kuroo often feels most at peace in his studio.

It’s quiet, albeit for the soft sounds of his breathing or the rustling of fabric. He was busy, constantly, always having new and old ghouls waltz into his shop, looking for a disguise that he was willing to offer. It meant having creativity, skill, and outstanding people skills. Today, however, Kuroo had closed the doors and let himself hideaway in his work room to fix Tsukishima’s mask in peace.

The mask was ripped below the nose, up towards the eye. It was well made, of course, and Kuroo’s stomach involuntarily twisted as he thought of what Tsukishima could have been doing to rip such a tear in it.

The mask itself fitted for half of his face and was dark black. Part of it that slipped over the nose was made from a harder material, while the mesh around his mouth and chin was much more breathable. It was simple at first glance, but one feature stood out. The mesh area had a thin webbing, looking exactly that of a spiders, that looked as if one thousands widows had built up their homes around the mouth and jaw. The webs were only seen in the right light, if you turned it the right way to catch their thin strands, but the detail had gained Tsukishima is alibi.

The Widow.

It was a pain to fix, and Kuroo’s hands already ached from stitching and weaving the fibres back together. It was slow work, but he made no effort to rush the process. He cared about Tsukishima, and he didn’t want the mask to tear as easily again.

The work soon became repetitive, and Kuroo let his mind wander. Tsukishima often seemed distant, but Kuroo didn’t mind. He was an introvert, someone who preferred small groups and time alone. And yet, Kuroo couldn't mistake something akin to sadness in his eyes when he talked about ‘heading back,’ home never said but implied. Tsukishima was cold, but he was kind, Kuroo knew it.

Fuck, he needed to sort out his feelings.

* * *

 Bokuto grinned, balancing his phone on his pillow as he scribbled down into his notebook.

_“No, but like, here’s the thing.”_ Kuroo insisted, currently skyping him. _“How are they supposed to catch things? Like in what scenario did they evolve to not need arms?”_

Bokuto laughed, deep and booming, setting down his pencil as he worked on his story board. “I don’t know, dude. Maybe they evolved from eels or something. Aren’t all living things descended from the water?”

Kuroo shrugged, moving his camera, _“I’m better with chemistry, you know this. And that still doesn't explain why they don't have arms.”_

“Snakes are weird, man.” Bokuto told him. Kuroo hummed in agreement.

Kuroo was so easy to talk to, Bokuto found. He thought, when he first got his number, that he would be nothing but a sputtering mess speaking to someone as hot as him, but eventually, his gorgeous features blending into normal conversation. It had been about two weeks, and Kuroo seemed to enjoy talking while he had off time.

Bokuto continued talking, chatting about his storyboard as he sketched out the frames, not looking up but knowing that Kuroo was listening intently. It had grown late into the night, and Bokuto’s eyelids were growing heavier and heavier as he worked. Kuroo seemed awake, though, his eyes alert despite the velvety black sky that hung over both of their heads.

Bokuto was pulled out of his drifting half-sleep when he heard a loud noise from Kuroo’s end. He looked up to the screen, where Kuroo was already turned to face someone off camera.

“Who is it?” Bokuto asked, fighting a yawn.

Kuroo smiled softly. _“My friend slash roommate.”_

“The writer?” Bokuto asked, vaguely remembering Kuroo telling him about his roommate.

_“Yeah, Hey, Akaashi,”_ He called, looking off the camera. Bokuto heard a hum of acknowledgement, and faintly wondered why anyone would be arriving home so late.

_“He’s tired.”_ Kuroo said, rubbing his own eyes. _“Don’t mind.”_

Bokuto bit his lip. “Why is he coming home so late? You live a dangerous ward, are you sure he’s safe with all of the stuff going on?”

Kuroo’s face fell, his eyes softening for a moment before he shrugged. _“That’s what I tell him.”_

Bokuto smiled before closing his notebook and stretching his arms backwards in a loud yawn. “I think I should go to bed, I have class tomorrow.”

Kuroo nodded. _“Yeah, so should I. Night.”_

“Goodnight.” Bokuto replied. There was a second of brief tension before he ended the call where their eyes me over the screen, and Bokuto could’ve sworn something was wrong.

* * *

Tsukishima really, really, _really_ disliked Kuroo’s idea.

“C’mon, Tsuki,” He pleaded, holding onto his hand as he dragged him through the crowds of people on the streets. “Don’t worry about meeting Bo, he’s fine!”

Tsukishima clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. “He’s _human_.” He pressed, slowing Kuroo’s pace. “I don’t have a superiority complex, but why?”

Kuroo paused, causing Tsukishima to bump into him. “I don’t know. It’s refreshing, I guess. He doesn't worry about murder on a daily basis like I do.”

Tsukishima huffed, looking away from Kuroo’s gaze. He wasn’t looking, but he _knew_ that his eyes would be sincere, that his mouth would be slightly quirked to the right, and, quite frankly, he didn’t need that in his live at this moment. So Tsukishima bit bad his pride, sighing and following Kuroo down the street.

“For the record,” He said, “I’m only doing this for the coffee.”

Kuroo looked back at him, eyes half lidded, brown raised, and mouth pulled into his signature shit-eating grin. “Oho?”

Tsukishima clicked his tongue again, holding his head high as Kuroo pulled him into the coffee shop where Bokuto was sitting, tapping his foot against his chair. He spotted them, and his face broke out into the biggest grin.

Tsukishima, quite frankly, felt his heart stop. His hair was stupid, but that smile.

_Whatever_ , he thought, following Kuroo into the shop with an apathetic face.

“God, could you take any longer?” Bokuto whined as Kuroo and Tsukishima took their seats at the table. “Got you coffee, Kuroo, but I don’t know what you take, so I brought sugar and cream packets, Tsukishima, right?”

Tsukishima nodded. “Thank you, Bokuto. And I take mine black, so it’s alright.”

“Eh?!” Bokuto exclaimed. “How do the both of you do that? Are you even _human_?”

Tsukishima tensed, but Kuroo simply laughed, throwing his head back. He and Bokuto complemented each other, bouncing energy off of the other, their voices loud, smiles and smirks large. Tsukishima liked it, watching Kuroo light up, trying to provoke a reaction from Bokuto, only to pout and whine, because Bokuto seemed practically immune.

Tsukishima listened, for the most part, adding sly comments every so often, clicking his tongue or rolling his eyes as he drank his coffee (Kuroo was right, the coffee was delicious). Bokuto was louder than Kuroo, in every aspect, but Kuroo wasn’t far behind. Their bicker and banter was entertaining, but Tsukishima found himself getting tired, and wished that Akaashi was there to help him talk Kuroo and Bokuto out of seeing who can make the other laugh hard enough to spew coffee first.

“So, Tsuki-” Bokuto started, but Tsukishima soon cut him off.

“Kuroo, look. Now he’s picked up on it.” He complained. Resistance against the nickname proved to be in vain, as Bokuto continued on anyways.

“Where do you work?” Bokuto finished.

“I bartend.” Tsukishima responded, sipping his coffee. 

Bokuto’s eyes widened, and his face spilt into a huge smile. “Whoa, that’s awesome!” He exclaimed. “Which bar?”

“ _Helter Skelter._ ” Tsukishima responded.

“Never heard of it.” Bokuto replied with a shrug.

Kuroo’s smug grin worked it’s way on his face. “What is it that Akaashi calls that place, a hole in the wall? It’s underground. Super indie.” He said, a mocking tone in his voice.

Tsukishima scoffed. “It’s supposed to be like that.” He defended.

Bokuto laughed, and Tsukishima watched as he scrunched up his face and put his nose in the air. “My name is Tsukishima and I liked it before it was cool.” He said, mocking him.

Tsukishima kicked him from under the table, causing Bokuto to help. He winced for a moment, forgetting how strong he really was, before rolling his eyes. “God no, I’d never say that.”

Kuroo was laughing loudly, hunching over onto the table. “Nah, Bo, he’d be more like this.” He said, moving to puff out his chest and stick his nose in the air. “I don’t have a superiority complex, but you’re _so_ immature.”

Bokuto burst out laughing, and Kuroo held his mock composure, sending Tsukishima a smirk, before returning to mocking him. “I’m Tsukishima, and I don’t have any respect for my elders.”

“Piss off.” Tsukishima shot back, “And are you calling yourself old?”

“Wait,” Bokuto interjected, confused. “You’re younger?”

Kuroo nodded, dropping the act and resuming to drink his coffee. “Tsuki here is only eighteen.”

Bokuto whistled, and Tsukishima shrugged. “You haven't turned twenty yet.”

Bokuto raised his eyebrows in surprise again, and Kuroo whined, dejected. “Tsuki, my birthday is next month!”

Bokuto and Kuroo began to playfully bicker, and Tsukishima sat back, shaking his head. They were a bit annoying together, of course, but he couldn't help but feel like that was endearing in the kind of was that came with bustle he was unaccustomed to, the hum of people around them, the whir of coffee machines. Bokuto’s laughter was booming, and Kuroo’s came out like a snicker. Kuroo seemed lighter, Tsukishima noticed. Less uptight. He couldn't tell if that was an act, but he wanted to believe it wasn’t.

* * *

 Bokuto yawned again, rubbing his eyes. They had another fifteen minutes before the sun would go down and he’d be forced to stop filming this shot, but until then, he had to continue. He grinned at his camera man, Asahi, before stretching his arms.

“Okay, lets try and get this scene done!” He exclaimed. “Yui, you’re not disgusted in this scene, alright? Just apprehensive. From the top!”

The female actress nodded, before resuming her place on top on the edge of the building. Technically, the drop was only six feet, a lower attachment right underneath, but if Bokuto could cut the shots right, it’d look like she was dangling her feet over an entire city.

The shoot continued for another twenty minutes, Bokuto insisting on slipping in a few experimental dark shoots before packing up to leave. Yui waved goodbye, throwing a jacket over her flowing white dress. Bokuto smiled. Yui was an actress majoring in drama, and she agreed to play the lead in his film.

Asahi coughed, causing Bokuto to swivel around to face him. “What is it?” He asked, voice still energetic despite the tiredness beginning to weigh him down.

Asahi flinched, a habit due to Bokuto’s loud nature. “I, uh, was wondering if you needed a hand, or-”

“You can head home if you want.” Bokuto said, zipping up his camera bag. “Do you mind keeping the lights at your place again?”

“Yes, I mean, no, I mean, yes I will, no I don’t mind.” Asahi replied, flustered. “Sorry, it’s dark and I wanna get to my car as soon as possible.” 

Bokuto waved a hand, moving to disassemble the tripod. “Dude, get going then! I’ll see you in class!”

Asahi nodded, muttering a goodbye before grabbing the lights and moving to go down the service elevator.

Bokuto hummed, smiling. He loved this part, the filming, the gruelling hours spent retaking a shot until it’s _perfect_. Bokuto grabbed his bag, slinging it over one shoulder, and throwing his tripod over the other. It was a bit awkward, but he was used to lugging equipment back and forth.

It was dark now, the sky clouded over, the only light being cast by streetlamps and neon store signs. Bokuto wasn’t in a hurry to get home, instead choosing to meander down the deserted streets. The weather was nice, just cool enough to be comfortable, but not enough that it made him shiver. He _did_ regret not wearing gloves, but shrugged it off, hiking his bag higher up his shoulder.

The walk back to his apartment wasn’t too far, a fifteen minute walk at best. Bokuto let another yawn escape his lips, blinking his eyes open as he continued down the street. It was oddly deserted for a Friday night, the streets bare of teenagers heading to parties or people heading to clubs. Even the traffic had slowed, the roadway bare of any headlights. 

Bokuto ignored the eerie quietness of the street, picking up his pace and heading towards his apartment. There was absolutely, positively, not a thing wrong, and Bokuto was contempt in not frantically overanalyzing his surroundings. 

That is, until a blood curling scream pierced through his ears.

Bokuto whipped his head around, nearly dropping his tripod. His eyes darted to the alley he had just passed, fear bubbling in his stomach. The scream was short lived, breaking off with a frightening _crunch_ of what Bokuto assumed were bones. Bokuto gulped, setting down his tripod and moving closer to the alley, where various noises, carrying from squelches to cracks, were emitted.

He knew you weren’t supposed to investigate screams in a pitch black street. It was stupid dangerous, and was the surfire way to get yourself killed. And despite it all, Bokuto found himself standing in front of the alley littered with limp bodies, staring at the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

The thing had wings of orange and red, looking as if they were made of shards of glass. Around its torso looked to be dark blue, almost black armour, plating the creatures torso. At the small of its back were two long, fiery red tentacle-like things, flicking around. The creature was hunched over something, and it’s legs looked to be crossed. Bokuto let out a gasp of amazement, momentarily forgetting what led him to the magnificent creature until it froze.

Bokuto seized up, watching as the creature sat up. He willed himself not to shake as it moved its head, its neck cracking as it turned inhumanly to look Bokuto in the eye. It was wearing a mask, blue and orange, that was pulled into a long beak-like nose. Bokuto could see its mouth, stained with deep crimson blood, stark against the silky skin beside it. 

_A ghoul,_ Bokuto thought, staring with wide eyes at the creature before him. It took him a few more seconds to snap out of his daze, and just as he took a step back to bolt, the creature opened it’s eyes, black and red and _horrifying_.

Bokuto turned and sprinted from the mouth of the alley just as one of the ghoul’s tentacles darted out to him, catching the side of his thigh and tearing through. Bokuto hissed, not stopping, grabbing his tripod and throwing it onto his shoulder, not bothering to notice the sting in his leg.

He burst into his apartment building, not stopping his sprint until he was in the safety of the elevator. Adrenaline raced through his bloodstream as he hunched over, trying to catch his breath. He clutched onto his thigh, nearly fainting at the sight of the blood that had soaked through his jeans and trickled down his leg. The elevator dinged, signifying that he had successfully arrived at his floor, and Bokuto limped his way to his room, one hand on his thigh, making sure no blood dripped onto the floor, the other rummaging through his pockets for his keys.

Once he had unlocked the door, Bokuto dropped his equipment onto the ground and stumbled towards his bathroom. He flicked on the light and collapsed onto the ground, hissing as he clutched onto his leg. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself to look at his thigh again.

The ghoul had cut clean through his jeans and skin, leaving a gash that ran horizontally across the outside of his thigh. Bokuto sighed, biting his lips to keep from groaning in pain as he shimmied out of his jeans, blood pounding in his ears as the wound continued to ooze blood. Once his legs were free, Bokuto tied a leg of his pants around his wound, making sure it was tight. With that temporally taken care of, he pulled himself off the ground to look through his medicine cabinet.

Bokuto reached for the cabinet, pulling it open and frantically feeling around for bandages. He sighed in relief when he found them, and tossed them onto the ground. Turning back to the cabinet, he tore through the razors and face cloths, looking for a first aid kit. The kit was half empty, what with him being a klutz and the complications that come with filming. He was out of rubbing alcohol, and was lucky that he had spare bandages, because none where there. Tossing the medical needle and thread onto the floor, Bokuto glanced down at his leg, which was continuing to soak through his makeshift bandage, and sighed.

He dragged himself to the kitchen, carrying his supplies and throwing them onto the island. Throwing open his fridge, he reached for the bottle of vodka lying on the shelf. He slammed the door behind him, hoisting himself up onto his counter. With shaking hands, he removed his makeshift bandage, wincing as blood rushed back to his toes and to the wound. Cracking open the vodka, he bit his lip, tensing up as he poured it onto the wound. It stung like hell, and he had to force his eyes open to make sure the blood was being washed away.

Steadying his hands, he reached for the needle, dipping it into the vodka before lacing the string through it. He took another deep breath, calming his racing nerves as he began to stitch the wound. It was slow work, and Bokuto was truly grateful that he took that one first-aid course last year, because he was able to close the wound with relative ease. Grabbing the bandages, he began to wrap his leg, making sure to secure it tight.

The adrenaline finally began to wear off, Bokuto’s pulse slowing to a normal rate. He took a deep breath, running his shaking hands through his hair.

_I could’ve been killed back there,_ He thought, grabbing his phone from his discarded jeans. _Why wasn’t I killed back there?_

Bokuto unlocked his phone, opening his contacts and typing in Kuroo’s number. The phone rang twice before he answered.

_“Bo, what’s-”_

“Kuroo, I just saw a ghoul.” Bokuto choked.

* * *

 Kuroo, normally, prides himself for not having a temper. There is, however, two things that do cause him to loose his cool. One, the CCG, and two, his friends being hurt.

Kuroo’s blood ran cold when he heard what Bokuto had said. Scrambling from his work bench, he stood up, grabbing for his mask.

“Are you okay?” Kuroo asked, trying to contain the anxiety running through him. 

_“Yeah, I mean, I am now.”_ Bokuto said. His voice was shaking, slightly, but Kuroo could tell he was trying to sound normal. _“It sliced my thigh, but I stitched that up. At least I get a cool battle scar now, right?”_ He laughed halfheartedly.

Kuroo took a deep breath, calming the rage that boiled in him. “What did the ghoul look like?” He asked, not caring how blunt he was. 

It took Bokuto a few seconds to answer, but when he did, his voice sounded equal parts horrified and amazed. _“It was slender, but looked masculine. It had these big wings, orange and red, they looked like glass. And on it’s back were these orangey-red tentacle things, and all over it’s torso was like, this metallic armour.”_ Kuroo froze. _He couldn’t mean-_

_“But, man,”_ Bokuto continued, _“When it realized I was there, it like, cracked it’s neck, and fucking, its head was like, upside down. And it had this mask, it was all glittery and gold and navy, it kind looked like a bird-”_

That was all of the confirmation Kuroo needed toswear under his breath, kicking at his desk. 

_“Kuroo,”_ Bokuto said, voice worried and small. _“What am I supposed to do? Was that—did I see— The Phoenix? The one that’s always on the news?”_

Kuroo let his mask slip out of his hands. “Yeah,” He said, pulling on his coat. “Yeah, you did.”

* * *

 


	2. snap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for the response on the last chapter! i hope you like this one just as much !

Akaashi looked down at his hands, soaked in blood. When he came to his senses, he was in a dark alley, alone albeit for the bloodstains of bodies that were now sitting somewhere in his stomach. Akaashi’s memories were a blur, and it took him a few moments to regain his thoughts.

He left to fight, to strengthen himself. Upon coming across an alleyway, where a group of people, no, _ghouls_ , were, he decided to slaughter them. Akaashi cracked his shoulders as he began to make his way back to his apartment, trying to think of a reason that he would be provoked into fighting. There was always the option that there was _no_ reason, and that he did it out of spite. He was acquainted with cannibalism, and it wouldn’t have been the first time he had eaten something not human. Akaashi racked his brain, trying to remember how many ghouls there had been. Judging by the few wounds that had already healed into scars on is arms, there were quite a few.

He kept to the shadows, avoiding the neon lights of the street. It was weird, the way his instincts took over, left him with hazy memories to sort out afterwords. He didn’t like it, but Akaashi knew that the power this form gave him was priceless. He had an inkling of what had happened, but he wasn’t about to tell anyone about it. Especially Kuroo, hell, even Tsukishima found his inclination to cannibalism slightly odd.

He still felt like there was a gap in his memories, like there was a piece that wasn’t there. He remembers hearing something, snapping his neck, and not much else. He regained his senses not long after that, he figured, so the memory would maybe come last.

Akaashi slipped off his mask as he entered his building through the service door, careful to avoid any cameras. It would be suspicious, seeing a man with a mask in hand, clothes torn with holes on his back. Akaashi looked down at his shirt, wrinkling his nose. It could hardly be called a shirt, the black fabric in thin shreds, completely exposing his torso as if it was a crop top.

He ran up the stairs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, aware of the blood that was likely still stained there. Akaashi’s muscles were tired, and as he opened the door to his apartment, there was nothing on his mind except sleeping under a soft quilt until the late morning.

Kuroo, however, had other plans. As soon as Akaashi stepped through the door, Kuroo had swung a fist directly at his mouth. Akaashi dodged it with ease, jumping around Kuroo and moving further into the apartment.

“What the hell, Kuroo?” He asked as Kuroo turned to face him.

Kuroo took a step forward, his usual lazy grin replaced with an expression that could only be described as pissed off.

“You attacked Bokuto!” He spat. “Where the hell were you?”

Akaashi kept his calm, raking his brain for a memory that correlated. “Bokuto, your friend, the human.” He restated, still trying to remember what he had done.

“Yeah, the fucking human. You can’t attack my friends, what the fuck? And don’t try and tell me you were feeding and couldn't control yourself, you’ve ate plenty already.” Kuroo spat again, taking another step, using the high difference between them to brood over. 

“I wasn’t feeding on humans.” Akaashi said, voice clear and concise.

Kuroo groaned, turning to flop onto the couch. “So, you were feeding on ghouls.” He reiterated, face in his hands.

Akaashi nodded. “I’ve done it before-”

“Don’t act like you’re smarter, Keiji.” Kuroo shot, voice cold. “Bokuto said you had armour plating on your stomach, and you and I both know that isn’t your usual kagune.”

Akaashi heaved a sigh, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He had been figured out, of course.

“A kajuka.” Kuroo said, moving to cross his legs and look up at the still standing Akaashi. “That explains it, doesn't it?”

Akaashi sighed again, dropping his hands to his side. “I don’t get why-”

“I’m not mad that you’ve evolved into a kajuka, Akaashi.” Kuroo said, his voice calming. “I’m mad because you have limited control when you’re like that and that you attacked my friend. Not to mention that you don’t seem to care.”

“I do care, Kuroo, but I’ve never met him, and how was I supposed to know?” Akaashi said, voice exasperated.

Kuroo sighed, realizing that Akaashi had a point. He wasn’t mad, per say, more frustrated with the fact that he almost felt bad for seeing the obvious pain in Akaashi’s eyes as the boy collapsed onto the couch beside him and fell onto his shoulder. 

No, Kuroo thought, shaking the feeling away. Akaashi very well could've killed Bokuto, sweet, human Bokuto, Bokuto who shouldn’t be wrapped up in this part of his life. Akaashi was still awake, eyes transfixed dead ahead. He looked peaceful now that his eyes had softened, less deadly, less like he could snap your neck in seconds if he felt so inclined.

And Kuroo, gut squirming with insects to busy to be butterflies, head murky with too many conflicting thoughts to be sane, let Akaashi fall asleep on his shoulder, still covered in a thin layer of blood and sweat. Kuroo, too drained to stand, fell asleep moments after.

* * *

 The ground beneath Tsukishima’s feet is soft, the soil giving way as he jumped down from the building. He turned to his right, where Akaashi already stood, arms crossed, head low.

“He should be here already.” Tsukishima said, voice annoyed.

“We’re early.” Akaashi responded, moving to lean against the brick wall. “Besides, we can’t expect _him_ not to make an entrance.”

Tsukishima scoffed. Akaashi liked the ghouls they were meeting with, as did Kuroo, but he couldn’t find the patience to deal with them. At least he could expect one to act like an adult. He couldn’t complain, seeing as his job required information, and these two happened to be in the middle of almost every conflict in the city.

Akaashi was silent, per usual. When conducting business like this, he often kept his lips shut, only talking when he deemed it necessary. Tsukishima glanced over to him, amazed at how still his body was. Not a single muscle moved, the wind pushing his hair being the only movement on his entire body.

Tsukishima watched him. He looked ethereal, the dim lighting casting shadows over his neck, the contour of his collar, the dip of his top lip. Akaashi parted them, letting a huff of air slip from his mouth, clouding in from of him. It was cold, and Tsukishima tried not to shiver.

Suddenly, Akaashi moved, his head jerking forwards just as two figures moved from the shadows. Tsukishima rolled his eyes as the pair walked up, skin glowing in the moonlight.

“My my, Tsuki-chan, you two are early for once!” The man on the right said, a grin plastered across his face. His companion rolled his eyes at the same time Tsukishima scoffed, moving to uncover his mouth with his mask.

“Skip the bullshit, Oikawa.” Tsukishima said.

Oikawa sighed dramatically. “Aka-chan, defend me.”

Akaashi stayed silent, not moving to remove his mask. Oikawa whined, causing his partner to slap him upside the head.

“I’m sorry about him.” The man said. “As always.” He pulled his mask off of his mouth and nose, revealing his lips as he spoke.

“You compensate for his behaviour, Iwaizumi.” Tsukishima replied. “Now get it over with.”

“What, no foreplay?” Oikawa jested, earning him another punch in the shoulder.

Akaashi gave Oikawa a deadpan stare, causing the elder to roll his eyes. “Fine.” Oikawa said, heaving a dramatic sigh. “The CCG is opening a special team to handle your case, Akaashi.”

“What?” Tsukishima exclaimed, turning to Akaashi, who didn't react.

“He’s murdered every investigator he comes across and then some, you don’t think they wouldn’t?” Oikawa replied, rolling his eyes.

Tsukishima shook his head, sighing. “How do you even get this information?”

Oikawa smirked. “I have my ways.”

“He sleeps around.” Iwaizumi supplied. Oikawa scoffed, kicking Iwaizumi in the shin.

“Is that it?” Akaashi said, speaking for the first time. “For the information, I mean.”

“That’s the last piece that concerns the both of you.” Iwaizumi told them.

“The rest is just for my dear Aka-chan.” Oikawa said, grinning.

Tsukishima heaved a sigh, looking over to Akaashi. “I’m going to head back then.”

“I’m gonna feed.” Iwaizumi added, moving to fasten his mask over his nose and mouth. “See you at home, Oikawa.”

Oikawa waved goodbye, and Akaashi simply nodded. Tsukishima let his eyes linger on Akaashi for a moment longer, before tearing them away to wave Oikawa and Iwaizumi goodbye. Tsukishima pulled his mask over his mouth and nose, moving to return to the shadows and make his way back to his train car. 

Tsukishima began to walk down the deserted road, kicking at the rocks that littered the pavement. He didn’t necessarily like living in an empty boxcar, but it was easier. All the money from the bar went to keeping it open, leaving very little for him to make the rent of any apartment. An old train car was easier, he was off the system entirely.

He supposed he could move in with Akaashi and Kuroo, but that wasn’t practical. Their apartment was only met for a single person, Akaashi’s bedroom in what was supposed to be a storage room. They barely had room for two people, let alone a third.

Tsukishima sighed, rolling his shoulder. Meeting with Oikawa and Iwaizumi always made him uncomfortable. The pair were unpredictable and deadly, and for that reason alone, Tsukishima tried to keep on their good side.

A gust of wind blew through Tsukishima, and despite the bitter coldness of it, he didn't shiver. He thought back to Akaashi, to the way he kept his body so still, how his presence was so intimidating despite only speaking once. 

Kajuka. Tsukishima was surprised when Kuroo told him a few days earlier that Akaashi’s cannibalism resulted in a mutation that proved him more deadly that them both combined, but it made sense. Akaashi was deadly, deadly enough that even ghouls would whisper his name in hushed tones of fear. He felt a pang of remorse for Bokuto, who Kuroo said ended up injured form it.

Tsukishima was used to it. It wasn’t like Akaashi was two different people, rather, there was a part of him he didn’t see on a daily basis. He was acquainted with both the boy with messy black hair, toes on his lap as he read a novel, and the boy with blood dripping down his face, flesh caught under his nails, eyes wide and deranged. 

* * *

Akaashi clicked his nails against the makeshift frame of Tsukishima’s bed, scratching the metal and filling the box car/converted home with the sound of light tapping. Tsukishima let out a sigh of contempt. Akaashi was lying on his chest, his head resting by the crook of his neck, one of Tsukishima’s long legs draped over him.

Tsukishima hadn’t expected to hear him enter, mask still in hand, later that night. What’s more, he didn't expect Akaashi to wrap his arms around his waist and breath in his scent, clinging onto him for dear life. 

“You seem lonely.” Akaashi said, running a hand up his thigh. Question, unsaid, lingering in the air around them: _Why do you even still live here?_

“I’m not.” Tsukishima responded. Answer, unsaid, _I’m lying, I’m not sure why._

Akaashi had led him to the bed, laid him down, and as Tsukishima swallowed every thought he knew he shouldn’t be thinking, laid across his chest.

And there they were, not resting their eyes, not sleeping, not speaking. Simply lying in each other’s comfort. The bed was spring shot and hissed every time either boy moved, and their combined weight made it sag so much that they could feel the hard metal underneath.

The box car was void of any personal items, sporting a battery powered coffee maker, a bed, and a dresser filled with everything Tsukishima owned, from books to clothes. Akaashi must’ve noticed that he was staring at it, because a hand reached to his jaw, and the elder turned so that he was on his belly.

Tsukishima swallowed the knot in his throat as Akaashi settled his head on his chest and brought a hand to run through his hair. His finger tips with delicate, and managed his scalp as they ran through his blond locks. Akaashi could most definitely hear his heartbeat through his chest, and Tsukishima took a deep breath to slow it, watching Akaashi rise and fall with his chest.

“Come home with me.” Akaashi mumbled, moving to look him in the eye. “My bed is more comfortable than this.”

Tsukishima tensed up. He couldn’t, he couldn’t put himself into Akaashi’s space like that, he couldn’t invade his already tiny flat-

Suddenly, Akaashi moved forwards, eyes half lidded, lips parted. He pressed his lips against the corner of Tsukishima’s mouth, slowly, the sound echoing through the box car. Tsukishima’s breath hitched, and Akaashi pulled away, sitting up.

“Come on,” He said, “Let’s go.”

They walked to Akaashi’s flat in silence, neither mentioning what had happened inside the boxcar. Somehow, it wasn’t awkward, instead, fluid and normal, like breathing. Neither felt the need to continue farther, to talk about it, to slam the other against the wall and press their lips together. Being together was simply enough for the moment, and despite the way Tsukishima’s stomach lurched when he watched the moonlight cast it’s silver glow on Akaashi’s face, he didn’t make the move.

Conversation resumed, Tsukishima telling him about a ghoul he served at the bar who was dead set on getting him in his bed. Tsukishima, of course, declined by breaking his wrist when he tried to grab his hand and charged him extra.

Akaashi laughed without sound, smiling towards the sky. The wind whipped through them, and Akaashi jogged forwards into the building, turning around to check that Tsukishima was still following him. Tsukishima cracked a small smile as Akaashi slowed so he could catch up to him. 

When the pair opened the door to the apartment, Akaashi mentioning how he can make them coffee before they head to bed, they froze, spotting Kuroo on the couch with someone.

Kuroo didn’t seem surprised to see him, simply smiling. “Hey guys, didn’t know you were coming.” He said, eyes lingering on Akaashi for a moment.

“Hello, Bokuto,” Tsukishima said, toeing off his shoes and entering the apartment. “I’m making coffee.”

_Ah_ , Akaashi thought as the boy, Bokuto, turned to face him. _This is the infamous Bokuto._

When Bokuto turned, a smile wide on his face, Akaashi froze. He looked so carefree and smiley, one leg extended on the couch, the other tucked under him. He was nice to look at, and his goddamn smile, did he mention, was the brightest thing in the room. 

“You must be Akaashi!” Bokuto said, face lighting up. “I’m Bokuto.”

“I know.” Akaashi said. God, now he felt bad. Bokuto was so _human_ , and of course he had to go and fuck up his leg. He couldn’t exactly say sorry, or write a letter with rainbows saying _I’m sorry for almost killing you!_ in crayon. Remorse was an alien feeling for Akaashi, and he didn't like the way it sat in his stomach. 

“Akaaaaashi,” Bokuto whined. “That’s not a good way to carry on a conversation.”

Akaashi sighed, turning around. “I’m going to sleep.”

He was faced with Tsukishima, who had a smirk on his face. He handed him a cup off coffee before walking past him to sit next to the couch. “You were the one who wanted coffee.”

Akaashi huffed, catching Kuroo’s amused eyes. He half wanted to give the bastard the finger, but restrained himself, leaning against the wall as the conversation continued.

Unfortunately, Bokuto seemed hellbent on including him.

“So, ‘Kaashi.” He said, sipping on his tea. “I’ve heard of you, but, I don’t really know you, y’know?” Bokuto gestured wildly with his hands as he spoke.

Akaashi shot a glare at Tsukishima, who was rolling his eyes, snickering at Akaashi’s expense. Akaashi hummed in response, not directly answering Bokuto. That earned him a glare from Kuroo, but Bokuto didn't seem to care.

“You’re a writer, right? I’m a filmmaker! What genres do you usually write, are you a novelist or a poet or a journalist?” Bokuto exclaimed, inching forward. He momentarily winced, straining his knee, but before Kuroo could put a hand to it, Akaashi had answered.

“Novels and short stories. Poetry sometimes, but I focus on novels.” Akaashi said, sipping his coffee. 

Bokuto’s eyes widened. “Ah, Akaashi, that’s so awesome! Can I read one? I’ll let you watch one of my films!” 

Akaashi tensed, not knowing what to say. Sometime about Bokuto’s eagerness was infectious, spread through him like fire and poison, made his heart twist. He found himself nodding, and within a moment, Bokuto had stood up to make his way over to Akaashi, favouring his left. Kuroo instantly moved to help him, but Bokuto shrugged him off, excitedly pulling out his phone and earbuds.

“Here, watch this!” He said, jamming a headphone into Akaashi’s ear. “And let me read one of your stories!”

Akaashi let a small smile grace his lips, pressing play and moving to grab a magazine that was lying on the bookshelf. He flipped it open to the marked page, then handed it to Bokuto.

“I submitted a short story and this magazine published it awhile back.” He said as Bokuto scanned the title. His eyes were wide with amazement as he gingerly sat back down onto the couch where Kuroo awaited with open arms. Tsukishima shook his head.

Bokuto’s short film was only ten minutes, and was about a boy in high school with a crush on the boy in the year above him. The dialogue was witty, the characters funny and well written, and someone, in ten minutes, Bokuto was able to make Akaashi giggle and bring him to the brink of tears. 

“Did you like it?” Bokuto asked, face expecting as Akaashi handed him back his phone. “I made it last year, it’s one of the shorter ones so-”

“It was great.” Akaashi said, his voice soft. He looked up at the surprised Bokuto, realizing that that must’ve been the first time he’d heard him speak without a cool tone. 

Bokuto’s surprise faded into an ear to ear grin, his eyes squeezing tight. “Of course it was!” He exclaimed. “And your story was really good, too!”

Akaashi’s heart skipped a beat. He opened his mouth, not trusting his voice to speak, only to be cut off by Kuroo.

“Look at our friends, so artsy.” He said.

Tsukishima scoffed. “You’re a tattoo artist, and I run an indie bar. I don’t think we should be talking.”

And all four of them laughed, even Akaashi, airy and light. And despite everything that had happened before, Akaashi let himself fall back into the couch smiling wildly as if the world didn’t exist outside the four of them.

* * *

The world, sadly, does exist.

It was the odd time where Akaashi chose not to go out feeding, instead, staying in. Tsukishima was glad, Akaashi needed to rest. Besides, someone needed to make sure that Kuroo actually ate.

Kuroo stood beside him, his mask obscuring all but his right eye. He, quite literally, had the face of a cat. The mask had one ear, one gold cat eye, and a huge grin. It was quite terrifying to look at for too long, the image slightly disturbing, especially when Kuroo unzipped the mouth to reveal his own.

Despite his scary appearance, Kuroo had an issue with killing. He hated it, hated the action of killing innocent people with lives ahead of them, with something to look forward to, with a family and hopes and dreams. Not that he wouldn’t kill anyways, but Tsukishima always saw the look of self hatred in his eyes when he landed a killing blow.

Now, they were in an alley, Kuroo standing guard as Tsukishima did the dirty work. 

Tsukishima had a rintaku type kagune, inky black and red in colour. He giggled slightly as he watched the man before him’s eyes widen with fear as he sneered. Shooting a limb forwards, he pierced through the man’s stomach, his eyes popping forwards as blood gushed from his mouth. Tsukishima stepped forward, eyes cold as he moved to snap his neck. The screams seised, and Kuroo looked over his shoulder.

“I’m starved.” He said, moving from the mouth of the alley to stand beside Tsukishima. “You mind if I get the first taste?”

Tsukishima shook his head, taking a step back so that Kuroo could feed. The elder unzipped his mask, digging his hands into the flesh of the dead man. He brought it to his mouth, the blood trickling down his front as he devoured it feverishly, already leaning forwards for more. 

Once the initial hunger wore off, Kuroo stood up and stepped back, wiping his lips with the back of his hand before zipping his mask shut again. He motioned for Tsukishima to go ahead, and that was all Tsukishima needed.

Tsukishima was knelt over a body, about to remove his mask and bite into it, only to hear a crash behind him. 

“Dove!” Kuroo shouted.

Jumping backwards, Tsukishima narrowly avoided the axe-like object that was hurled towards him. Kuroo, having already heard the attacker approach, was already on the defence. Kuroo, a bikaku type, extended one of his three navy tails forwards, catching their attacker’s left calf. The attacker didn't falter, throwing a knife towards Tsukishima, which he easily dodged. He used his kagune to rise upwards, using his height as a leverage to distract the figure from Kuroo, who continued to attack closer up.

The investigator had their hood up, not showing their face as Tsukishima attacked. He landed a blow on the attackers left arm, but the attacker didn't care, swinging his axe towards Kuroo. Kuroo leaned back to dodge it, snaking his bikaku forward to send the investigator, and his axe. 

Before he or Tsukishima could get any closer, the investigator shot straight up, throwing a knife at the same time as he began to bolt. It lodged itself in Tsukishima’s shoulder, making him hiss. Kuroo turned to see if he was okay, giving their attacker enough time to bolt.

Kuroo swore, surging forwards to chase him, only for Tsukishima to grab his shoulder and pull him back.

“It’s too risky, they could by getting backup.” He said, pulling the knife from his shoulder. _Goddamn quinque knives,_ Tsukishima thought. “I’ll eat quickly and then we can leave for my place, less chance we’ll be seen.”

Kuroo seemed to want to protest, but he gave in, allowing Tsukishima to lean over the body and pull down his mask, tearing a huge chunk of the corpse’s shoulder before covering his face once more. He nodded, and the pair disappeared into the shadows. 

Kuroo might’ve hated killing, but that didn't extend to the CCG. Hatred bubbled deep inside him whenever they faced, and contrary to his actions with other humans, Kuroo showed no mercy. He was dangerous as he was cunning, his provoking attitude proving him dangerous to anyone he crossed.

There was a reason, of course. There was always a reason.

Tsukishima and Kuroo walked back to the train car in silence, sticking to the shadows, traveling through alleyways. Kuroo seemed exhausted, much in the way he always did after things like this. He was a worrier, and Tsukishima wanted nothing move to take those worries off his back. He watched him from the corner of his eye, watched as he took off his mask once they reached Tsukishima abode, observed how the blood around his mouth was not yet dried.

For Tsukishima, being alone with Kuroo was sharp edges. The pair were always snarky, though, Tsuki more so, and sarcastic, but when the air hangs heavy, they find themselves sitting into a preplanned routine, with methodological steps to every part. It wasn't like being with Akaashi, fluid like the water, or Bokuto, face paced like a busy day, but rather like a game of cards, with skill and strategy, the pair worked around each other, mopping each other of the blood that had dried and Tsukishima’s healing wound.

(They could do it themselves, but they never did. It was an unspoken rule between the two).

Kuroo turned to him when they finished cleaning up, bags deep and purple under his eyes. 

“Come back to the apartment. Please.” He said, eyes pleading.

It was too much, the thought of sleeping on a couch to the sound of the coffee maker, seeing Kuroo with his bedhead glory and Akaashi in sock feat. No, he couldn’t do it, couldn’t stand it.

Tsukishima shook his head, and Kuroo understood. He left, quiet as the breeze, into the shadows of Tokyo, leaving Tsukishima alone in his boxcar home.

* * *

Bokuto sat, kicking his feet against the wall. He was lying on the floor, legs propped up against the wall of his living room, doing almost anything to procrastinate editing and coursework.

Letting out a groan, he reached for his phone, checking his emails for the fiftieth time that hour before dropping it onto his face with a distressed cry that resembled a dying emu. Prying his phone from his face and pushing himself from the wall, Bokuto unlocked his phone, opening a new text message.

 

**_Bokutowwwww to > akaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaashi, TSUKI!!!!!!!, kurbrooooooo_ **

**_Bokutowwwww:_ ** _im so bored pls come over and distract me from university_

**_kurbrooooooo:_ ** _b00ty call ;)_

**_bokutowwwww:_ ** _;)_

**_bokutowwwww:_ ** _no but really_

**_akaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaashi:_ ** _bokuto, do your homework_

**_Bokutowwww:_ ** _akaaaashiiiiii noooooooooo_

**_TSUKI!!!!!!!:_ ** _hes right_

**_kurbrooooooo:_ ** _bro_

**_bokutowwwww:_ ** _kuroo pls_

**_akaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaashi:_ ** _kuroo no i swear to god don't encourage him_

**_kurbrooooooo:_ ** _kuroo yes_

**_kurbrooooooo_ ** _: akaashi im dragging ur sorry ass from your bed cmon lets go_

**_akaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaashi:_ ** _if I'm going tsukishima's going_

**_TSUKI!!!!!!!:_ ** _ugh_

**_bokutowwwww:_ ** _THANK YOUUUUUUUUUUUUU !!!!!!!!_

**_bokutowwwww_ ** _: i’ll order pizza if u wants_

**_kurbrooooooo_ ** _: sorry m8 I've already ate with akaashi_

**_TSUKI!!!!!!!_ ** _: yeah so have i_

**_bokutowwwww_ ** _: ah thats okay !!!!!_

* * *

There was a lot more space to move around in Bokuto’s apartment. His kitchen living room ensemble was probably the same size as Kuroo and Akaashi’s entire apartment, but that wasn’t saying much, since their apartment was so small in the first place. Still, having a couch that could actually sit more than two people and a few other beanbags definitely seemed like a luxury, especially to Tsukishima.

“Tsuki,” Bokuto whined, “You’re taking up the entire couch. Move.”

“No, Bokuto-san.” Tsukishima said, voice muffled through the couch cushions.

Bokuto let out another whine, causing Akaashi to roll his eyes and Kuroo to snicker from the beanbag chair. Bokuto pouted, turning to the other two.

“Back me up here!” He exclaimed.

Kuroo shook his head, still laughing, and Akaashi just sighed, cracking a smile.

Bokuto sighed over dramatically, flopping down on top of Tsukishima’s long legs. Tsukishima huffed, mumbling as he lifted his head from the pillow.

“Honestly, what the fuck?” He said, yanking his legs out form Bokuto, who sported a smug expression on his face.

Tsukishima turning, his loose long sleeved tee slipping down his shoulder to expose his shoulder. Bokuto let his eyes wander Tsukishima’s collarbone, watching the way it moved and connected to his neck. Only when he looked lower did he spot it, the thick, light pink scar under the cap of his shoulder. Tsukishima must’ve noticed him staring, because he shifted again, fixing his shirt so that it covered the scar and the majority of his shoulders.

Bokuto tore his eyes away, settling them forwards. Of course, of course he had to go and make Tsukishima uncomfortable. He looked out of the corner of his eye to Tsukishima, who was crossing his legs and running a hand through his hair. 

Akaashi must’ve noticed the tension, because suddenly, Kuroo had face planted onto the ground. Akaashi had yanked Kuroo’s beanbag out from under him and, wow, he must be strong, Bokuto thought, because Kuroo was lying face first on the floor.

“What was that for?” Kuroo exclaimed, rolling over and moving to sit up.

Akaashi dropped the bean bag back down and sat on it, shrugging. “You looked too smug.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry, pain-in-the-ass-Kuroo-san.”

Tsukishima snorted at the way Kuroo looked horrendously offended. Bokuto just grinned, laughing silently.

“C’mon, someone defend me here!” Kuroo exclaimed, turning to Tsukishima.

Tsukishima scoffed, moving off the couch to wrap his long arms around Akaashi. “Nope.”

Kuroo let out a whine, turning to Bokuto. “Dude, Please.”

Bokuto sighed, trying to mask his smile to no avail. “I _guess_ I can be on your team.”

“What team?” Tsukishima asked, wrinkling his nose. 

“The good one.” Kuroo shot back, his signature grin making it’s way onto his face.

“The one that could definitely beat you at arm wrestling.” Bokuto added.

The room went dead silent, and for a moment, Bokuto wondered what he said wrong. Suddenly, Tsukishima smirked, moving off of Akaashi to kneel onto the coffee table. 

“Oh, you’re on.” Tsukishima said.

The first round was Kuroo vs Tsukishima, and Bokuto had to admit, he did not expect Tsukishima to last as long as he did. The match lasted a solid twenty seconds, and despite Tsukishima being able to hold his ground, Kuroo managed to thump their fists against the table, earning a point for their team.

Next up was Bokuto vs Tsukishima. Bokuto knew he was strong, he went to the gym, he had been told on multiple occasions that his biceps were godly, so when he faced Tsukishima, he shot the blond a grin.

“I’ll go easy on you.” He said smugly.

“I don’t recommend that.” Akaashi added, crossing his legs as he watched.

Bokuto scoffed, securing their hands together. Once Kuroo let go, however, he realized Akaashi was right. Tsukishima had his hand almost against the table in a second, causing Bokuto to do a double take. As Bokuto fought back, centring their hands again, Kuroo Raised his eyebrows, then begun to fan himself.

“Isn’t this attractive, Akaashi?” Kuroo said, fake swooning onto the smaller.

Akaashi rolled his eyes, but couldn’t deny the blush the crept up his neck.

Suddenly, after reserving his energy, Bokuto surged forwards, smacking Tsukishima’s fist down onto the table. Bokuto whooped, turning to Kuroo for a high five, who seemed just as surprised like the rest of them.

“How the hell did you do that?” Tsukishima said, flicking out his wrist.

“Because I’m swol, lanky guy.” Bokuto boasted, flexing his bicep. Kuroo shook his head in disbelief as Akaashi watched with attentive eyes.

“Fine, try winning against Kuroo then.” Tsukishima shot.

“Oho?” Kuroo said, raising his eyebrows and dropping an elbow onto the table.

“Ohoho?” Bokuto responded, slotting their fists together.

Their match lasted for a decent five minutes. Twice, Bokuto gained the lead, only for push towards his side or centre their hands again. Both of their arms were shaking, and both Akaashi and Tsukishima looked surprised. 

“Okay, that’s a draw.” Tsukishima said, pulling their hands apart. 

Kuroo leaned back against the couch, shaking his head. “Honestly, Bo, what the hell?” Bokuto grinned, shrugging.

“Have you ever, like, considered professional wrestling?” Kuroo asked, still incredulous.

“Nah man,” Bokuto said, shaking his head. “Although, I was recommended to join the CCG on account of like, super strength or whatever.”

If Bokuto thought his three friends were surprised before, that was nothing compared to way they looked now, jaws practically touching the floor.

“What?” Akaashi asked.

Bokuto nodded, grabbing his water bottle. “Yeah, I turned it down because I don’t have a fucking death wish. Wrestling seems cool though.”

The stunned silence was broken by Akaashi putting his arm on the coffee table. “Alright, let’s see if you can beat me.”

Bokuto grinned, placing his hand in Akaashi’s. Kuroo shook his head, grabbing their hands. Bokuto looked up to Akaashi, who was sporting the slightest of a smirk and, wow, Bokuto was going to deny that his heart fluttered.

He braced himself, readying for when Kuroo released their hands. Taking a deep breath, Kuroo let go, and in an instant, Bokuto’s hand was smashed against the table. Bokuto looked down at his hand, then to Akaashi, then back down to his hand in disbelief.

“What the hell!” He exclaimed. “Akaashi, where are your awesome muscles?

“You should see him shirtless.” Kuroo added, turning to Tsukishima. “Am I right?”

Tsukishima nodded. “It’s amazing. He may be slender, but he’s toned.”

Bokuto very nearly swooned at the thought. 

And Bokuto felt his heart stop, because Akaashi was laughing, catching on his airway and giggling, airy and light, face spilt into a huge grin. He was blushing too, and that was enough to make Bokuto want to lean over and engulf him in a hug. And he looked past him to Tsukishima, who was laughing as well, _what a wonderful sound_ , and his heart beat double time.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for reference, a kajuka is a rare mutation in ghouls caused by eating other ghouls.  
> 10 points if you spot the reference i threw in here  
> i cannot WAIT for this to start getting super gory you have no idea also oikawa and iwaizumi MAY have their own side story with another character if i get my shit together lmaooo


	3. devour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmmmmmm gotta love that gore

The rain pelted at the windows of Bokuto’s classroom, the _pitter patter_ noises numbing into his skull as the lecture droned on. He looked down at his watch: another five minutes until his last class of the day would finally be over. With a heavy sigh he propped his chin onto his hand, willing every last bit of focus he had left to finishing up his notes before the professor ended the lecture.

When it was over, Bokuto practically leapt out of his seat, shoving his notebook into his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. Fumbling with his umbrella, he ducked out of the building and popped it open, seeking shelter from the downpour as he made his way to the on campus coffee shop before heading back to his flat.

Despite his umbrella, he still managed to get enough water on his head from the time it took to put it up and take it down that his hair began to flatten on. Reaching up with one hand, Bokuto ran his fingers through the black and white mess, tousling the wet and waved strands as he walked up to the counter to order.

“Medium latte with caramel, please!” He said, moving to grab his wallet from his pocket. Before he could grab the money to pay, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Whipping his head around, he faced a boy with silvery white hair carrying a rather large suitcase, face pulled into a soft smile.

“Add a medium steamed milk to the order. I’ll pay.” He said, offering the barista a charming smile. The barista looked just as dumbfounded as Bokuto, who was now gaping at the man beside him who had paid and accepted their drinks. He passed Bokuto his, and motioned for him to sit down at a nearby table. 

“My name is Sugawara Koushi of the Counter Commission of Ghouls, or CCG, but you can call me Suga. I’m hear to chat with you about the report you put in a few weeks ago about a ghoul sighting.” He said, taking a sip of his drink.

Bokuto nodded, the pieces clicking together. “Uh, sure. Thank you for buying the drink, by the way.”

Suga smiled, waving a hand. “It’s no problem! Think of it as an apology for being so late with our meeting. It’s been busy.” He said.

Bokuto nodded again. He wasn’t sure what to say, which was odd, for him. Suga didn’t seem like the type to be capable of taking on a creature as terrifying as the one he say, but Bokuto held his tongue, trying not to remember the stench of blood, the way the bodies were littered on the ground around the pretty winged ghoul.

“So,” Suga said, moving to put down his cup. “Can you recite what happened on the night of your encounter?”

Bokuto swallowed his drink, the liquid burning his throat. “I was filming late at night, and when we finished, I went home by myself. The walk is only fifteen minutes or so, and I’ve done it before, so I wasn’t that worried.” He said. Taking a deep breath, he delved into the part of the memory he so often thought about.

“I heard a scream. It was, terrible, really, choked and high pitched. And then, a snap. And I thought, what harm could happen if I just ducked into the alleyway and peaked? So I did. And in the centre, was a ghoul, I guess. It had these wings, and these tentacles and armour, and it was eating. It heard me, and it snapped its neck to look at me. And, I just ran. It caught my leg, but I didn’t stop. I was close enough to my building that I got in without being killed, I guess. I never saw it's face, it wore this mask.” Bokuto finished. He laughed the ending, rubbing the back of his neck. The memory, the vision of the ghoul surrounded by bodies was enough to turn his stomach. Bokuto took a deep breath, and looked up to Suga, who was still smiling.

Suga turned, grabbing a file from his coat. “Those wings and tentacles you saw are called kagune, Bokuto. Ghouls use them to catch their prey.” He said. "Most ghouls also wear masks to hide their identity."

Suga placed the file onto the table, opening it to reveal several fuzzy snap shots of a black hair figure, with a red and orange beaked mask. Some shots showed him with the same wings Bokuto had seen, minus the tentacles and plating, while others showed all three, or both. Despite it all, Bokuto could definitely tell that it was the same ghoul.

“Yeah,” Bokuto said, nodding feverishly. “That’s it.”

Suga looked up with a smile, closing the file and tucking it back into his coat. He sighed, leaning back into his chair. 

“Well, Bokuto,” Suga said, grabbing his drink. “You should be dead.”

“What?” Bokuto exclaimed, leaning back.

“The Phoenix has killed every investigator it meets. It’s incredibly dangerous.” Suga stated, expression unchanging.

Bokuto shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “It was preoccupied, I guess.” He said. He choked on his next words. “With the bodies.”

Suga hummed. “I guess so. But this ghoul has never proved merciful. Consider yourself lucky, Bokuto.” He said. “I’m sorry for what you went through, though.” He added, voice and eyes softening.

Suga gave him another smile, pushing away from the table to stand. He waved goodbye, tucking the chair back in and wandering to the store front where another man with a briefcase was standing. He had short, dark hair, and looked rather stoic next to Suga.

Bokuto shook his head. _What an odd bunch,_ He thought.

It wasn’t like anyone who killed beasts such as the ones he saw could be completely sane, he supposed. Tousling his hair once more, he reached down and took a sip of his drink. He barely tasted it, his taste buds still burnt from before.

* * *

Akaashi fondled dark fabric Kuroo had placed into his hands, turning it over, relishing in the smoothness of the cool fabric.

“For when you fight.” Kuroo had said, eyes averted, the slightest blush noticeable on his cheeks. “It’s a bit skimpy, but you kagune comes from literally everywhere.”

Now, Akaashi stood, letting his eyes travel down the garment with careful analysis.

The garment was two pieces, the first being a long sleeved top, cropped at his upper ribs so that his stomach was on display. He turned it around, noting the although the collar was high at the front, it was low enough at the back so that his ukaku kagune could be released without issue. The second piece was skin tight pants that cut off at the ankle. Perhaps the most peculiar thing about the entire outfit that was it looked as if it was made of wrapped bandages.

Akaashi took a deep breath, pushing his sweater off his shoulders and began to shimmy out of his jeans. With careful hands, he began to slip on the pants, pulling them up to sit snugly around his hips. Akaashi moved to grab the shirt, and with careful hands, snaked his arms through the sleeves, and poked his head through the top.

He walked over to the mirror, closing his eyes. He sighed, not exactly sure why he was so nervous. Akaashi snapped open his eyes, and drank in his reflection.

The top hugged Akaashi’s form perfectly, and despite looking like he was wrapped in bandages, the fabric stretched and moved, never unraveling. There were a few gaps between the bandages, probably for aesthetic choice, that showed the contrast between the dark fabric and his skin. The pants hugged his hips, his hipbones on display, as well as every muscle on his abdomen. Akaashi turned around, looking at the mirror to observe the back. 

The shirt had a ridiculously low back cut, enough that half his shoulders were exposed. His entire lower back was clear for his rintaku kagune, and, if he was being honest, his ass looked amazing in the skin tight pants.

Akaashi turned back around, running his hands down his abdomen. He shook his head, wondering how the hell Kuroo had measured this to fit him so perfectly. He sighed through his nose, smiling slighting. Reaching behind the mirror, he pulled his mask from it’s hiding spot, turning it over in his hands.

Akaashi stepped out of his room, moving across the apartment to their cramped roof access.

“I’m headed out.” He called, knowing that Kuroo, with his impeccable hearing, would pick up. He didn’t expect to see him leaning up against the wall, eyes grazing over him. His pupils were blown, his lips slightly parted as he watched Akaashi take a step over.

“Do you like it?” Akaashi asked. His voice was barely more than a whisper, but Kuroo could hear it as clear as day.

“I should be asking you that.” Kuroo replied, licking his lips before taking a step back. “Stay safe.”

Akaashi, met his eyes, holding eye contact. “No promises.”

Slipping onto the roof access ladder, Akaashi climbed upwards a few metres, jumping onto the roof. He secured his mask around his face, letting out a sigh as a particularly cold gust of wind rushed through him. He noticed the other figure on the roof, a man with an odd mask, giving him the illusion of a third, red eye.

Oikawa Tooru, The Centipede.

He turned to face Akaashi, raising a brow at his outfit.

“That’s nice, did Kuroo-chan make it for you?” He asked, hopping down from the ledge to make his way to Akaashi.

Akaashi nodded. “He can probably make one for you, too.”

Oikawa smiled, leaning his head up towards the velvety black sky. “Only if I design it with him.”

There was a pause where the two of them stood in mutual silence, staring out onto a bustling city. Neon lights flashed, and an ambulance passed by, sirens faintly blaring from the streets below. 

Oikawa sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. With one graceful step, he jumped to the next rooftop, Akaashi on his heels. The pair moved as if they were the wind, effortlessly traveling across the buildings as if they weren’t hundreds of feet from the ground. 

Oikawa was interesting. Charming, sure, manipulative, certainly, but also loyal to the people he trusts. And Akaashi knew that Oikawa hated weakness, and they both had the nerve to do the things many feared.

They approached a large brick building, complete with boarded windows and a heavy steel door. Akaashi opened it with ease, letting Oikawa duck in first. The inside was dark, with blue lights thrown over the entire room. Many masked figures mingled, passed by, laughing and dancing their ways through the crowds. The club was a cesspool of illicit activities, screams faintly audible over the blasting music.

It was simple, really, how Akaashi and Oikawa worked. Oikawa is developing a kajuka, or, at least hopes to. Akaashi has a partial, and wants to complete it. Oikawa provides the location as long as he reaps some of the benefits. Akaashi agrees, because going alone can be a suicide mission, and Oikawa is not an enemy he wants to have, but a friend he’d like to keep.

Akaashi slipped through the crowd, trying to find an elevated area to scope the warehouse out. It took a moment, but he spotted it; a service balcony for the ceiling lights. Carefully, as not to seem out of place, he made his way to the ladder and began to climb, careful to stick to the corners of the room where the shadows were most heavy. Jumping onto the platform, Akaashi looked over the venue. There weren’t any walls in his way, and no tables to hide behind. Taking a deep breath, Akaashi steadied himself, before extending his ukaku kagune and seeing shards onto the floor below.

Screams erupted from the crowd, and Akaashi spotted Oikawa from the corner of his eye, already piercing through bodies with his rintaku kagune. Akaashi moved into the rafters as the attacks began to come his way, getting a few more distance shots in before diving down, activating his own rintaku and piercing through the bodies closest when he landed.

A woman to his left moved to kick him, but he turned and caught her leg before it landed, snapping it in one clean motion. He ripped his mouth through the flesh of her calf, discarding it on the floor as he spun, sending another round of shards into the crowds before being charged at by a muscular man.

Akaashi dodged his attacks, sending his kagune through the man’s stomach before taking a chunk out of his neck. He felt something scrape his back, causing him to flip backwards, catching his wing on the man’s chest, slicing through. A woman with a drill-like kagune aimed for his stomach, but not before Akaashi had swiped her legs from under her and sliced her head clean off. 

Oikawa was attracting more attention, his taunts and jeers clear for everyone to hear. Akaashi took the lull in fighting to fall onto his knees and begin devouring the corpses that littered the floor, crunching through their bones and all. He made quick work, his movements growing sharper with every body he consumed.

He heard a scream, and snapped his head around to face a man who had rintaku aimed at his back. Akaashi swivelled and rolled away, but he still managed to gain a slice up his side from the attack. It was deep, deep enough to sting and bleed, but the wound was already healing. 

Akaashi smirked, jumping forwards and launching himself on the man. Sending all four of his rintaku arms behind the man, he watched as they ripped through his torso, tearing him in half. Akaashi lapped up the blood that had splattered around his mouth and moved to lunge at the next opponent.

This one shot shards from her own ukaku, with perfect aim on his unguarded stomach, Akaashi leaned back, watching the shards sail over his head before running back forwards to tear a piece of the girl’s arm from her body with his bear hands, shoving it into his mouth. 

Time passed quickly as Akaashi continued to fight, the bloodstains on his skin growing until there was more red than not. When that happened, Akaashi ran his hands down his skin, pooling the blood on his palms to drink up himself. His thoughts were clear, the only things running through his head being _more, more, more._

Akaashi stalked forwards, not minding as the ghoul tried in vain to attack at him. His kajuka had come out sometime during the fight, running all the way up his torso, under the fabric of his shirt and down to his finger tips. The armour plated him nicely, providing ample defence against any attack the ghoul tried to throw at him. 

Akaashi laughed, a sickening, cackle-like laugh. “You come home late, your lover says, cluck cluck, mother hen, mother hen, the bird of prey is in your den.” He spat out, eyes blown wide as he inched towards the quivering figure.

“What are you even saying?” They choked out, tears now running down their face. The victim fell to their knees, scrambling to get away, only to be cornered by a wall.

“Polish, polish, bite, scratch, devour. Cut out the eyes and kiss the corner of the mouth.” Akaashi replied, his face contorted into a sickly grin.

He finally pounced, tearing his fingers into the victims throat, tearing it out in one motion. Memories blurred; he remembered digging his fingers into the eyes as he continued to eat away. This was the last living thing in the building besides him and-

Oh. 

When Akaashi finished, he stood, turning around to spot the figure, bent over a corpse across the room. Before he could fully process their identity, he lunged forwards, throwing them off of the body and onto the floor.

Oikawa was taken aback. This wasn't the first time this had happened, but it was terrifying whenever it did. He grumbled, sending a blow to cut through Akaashi’s side before ducking out of the way and praying that snapped him back.

Akaashi panted, his chest heaving as he faced the other ghoul, Oikawa. He internally cursed himself for attacking the other, guilt rising. He pushed it down, knowing Oikawa understood. Akaashi sighed. His hair was ruffled and slick with sweat, and his bones ached. Oikawa had hit him rather hard to bring him to his senses, but even as he waited, the gouging wound on his side had begun to heal, the blood clotting and dripping to the ground as it closed.

Oikawa laughed, shaking his head as he let Akaashi go. “Some sadistic freaks we are.” He sighed. “Oh well. I guess we both have our reasons.”

Akaashi straightened, wound fully healed. He reached his arms out behind his back, cracking his shoulders. “I can’t have things taken from me because I was too fearful to hold onto them.”

Oikawa’s smile grew. “Instinct is something you polish.” He said.

Those were his parting words, as he stepped backwards, wiping the blood from his mouth as he was enveloped by the amber haze of the street lamps. His shirt, ragged and torn, hung around his shoulders, but he didn't seem to care, walking with his head held high despite the fact.

Akaashi shook his head, looking down at the empty building around him. He wasn’t much better.

* * *

Tsukishima really regretted going to Yamaguchi.

“I’m just saying,” He called, balancing his textbook in one hand, a cup of coffee for Tsukishima in the other. “Calling _is_ a thing, y’know. You can tell me when you’re gonna show up at my dorm so you _don’t_ scare the shit out of me.”

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima muttered, leaning back into the wheely desk chair in Yamaguchi’s dorm.

His childhood friend shot him a glare, before smiling and chiming out a _Sorry Tsuki!_ His apartment was littered with what a usual university student’s would be: dirty laundry, textbooks, a sweater that was definitely not his. Yamaguchi sighed, shaking his head at Tsukishima’s frustrated state.

In a fit of desperation, in need of blunt advice, Tsukishima had sought out the help of his friend. They didn't see each other often; Yamaguchi preferred to try and live his life as closely intertwined with humans as possible, while Tsukishima did anything but.

Well, until as of late.

Tsukishima sighed, sipping Yamaguchi’s shitty instant coffee. Before he could decide what to start with, Yamaguchi had already begun to speak.

“It’s your messed up love life, isn’t it?” He asked, moving to sit on his bed. When Tsukishima averted his eyes, he smiled. “I knew it.”

“I don’t even know what I feel, because it’s with multiple people, Yam’s.” He complained, sipping the coffee again. “I don't even get jealous when the others are together, I don’t, I don’t understand.”

Yamaguchi raised an eyebrow. “You? Not jealous? You must really like them.” 

Tsukishima bit his lip, sipping at his coffee again. “I don’t know what I feel.” He said. 

Yamaguchi shrugged. “That has never been an issue for you before.” Yamaguchi said, closing his textbook and rolling to face him. “So what’s the big issue, because there’s gotta be one.”

Tsukishima bit the bullet, taking a deep breath before speaking. “Bokuto is a human.”

Yamaguchi seemed completely unfazed. “And?”

“ _And_?” Tsukishima repeated, his tone sour. “For one, it’s illegal to harbour ghouls. Second, it’s _fucking crazy_ , and dangerous. Not all of us are practically living as one.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes softened, and he shook his head. “Tsuki, you have the most self control out of everyone I know. If there’s anyone who needs to worry, it’s Akaashi, based off of what the news channels say. So stop bitching, and realize that you have three guys who would probably fuck you in an instant and do something about it.”

Tsukishima, ever stubborn, kept his lips tight, causing Yamaguchi to sigh and throw a textbook at his head, which he promptly caught.

“Listen, Akaashi won’t make a move. He goes with the flow of things, and won’t clarify or state his opinion unless directly asked. He’s tactful and painfully self aware, you know this. From what I’ve heard, Bokuto is oblivious in that sense, and will need a kick in the ass to realize what he’s feeling. Kuroo is probably playing mother hen and worrying, so you need to make the first move somehow. I don’t care if you decide to confess your love on live television or offer to suck dick or write a goddamn letter, just do it.” Yamaguchi ranted. The entire time he spoke, he had inched forwards, so that his face was directly in Tsukishima’s.

Tsukishima scoffed. “You’re so overdramatic.”

Yamaguchi leaned back, knowing he’d won. “I’m right.”

“Your coffee is shit.”

“So is your attitude, now go get ‘em.”

Tsukishima stayed a little longer, chatting with Yamaguchi until the boy shooed him out of his dorm, stating that he needed to start working. Tsukishima rolled his eyes, waving goodbye and promising to return sooner next time.

Tsukishima tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket, keeping his head down as he walked through the bustling streets. Yamaguchi had a point, he couldn’t just lie wait for the moment to come to do something about whatever his mess was. He sighed, thinking about the way Akaashi had pressed that kiss to his mouth, or about the way Kuroo would wipe the dried blood from his skin without hesitation, something akin to comfort in the both of their eyes at the action so soft for a pair of killers. And Bokuto, with his stupid grins and his stupid hair and not being able to tell when Tsukishima is insulting him and his stupid genuine compliments. 

Tsukishima huffed, wrestling his phone from his pocket, jamming his headphones into his ears so that he could listen to something beside his pathetic inner monologue. With hasty steps, he darted across the street and into _Helter Skelter_ , flicking on the lights. He shrugged off his coat, hanging it up in the small closet. He straightened his collar, smoothed the lines in his shirt, before taking his spot behind the bar.

Work was, unfortunately, slow, not giving him the much needed distraction from his brewing thoughts. He had a total of four people come in, none staying longer than fifteen minutes, and each twenty apart. Tsukishima sighed, checking the clock for the tenth time that hour. It still read half past nine, and with a groan, Tsukishima accepted the fact, giving up and grabbing his phone.

He hesitated as he danced his fingers over the contact. This, in reality, was a very bad idea, and Tsukishima prided himself in not making mad decisions. And yet, Yamaguchi’s words echoed in his head, giving him the reason to toss sense out of the window and hit call.

The phone rang twice before it was picked up.

_“Hey, what’s up, Tsuki!”_ Bokuto exclaimed.

Tsukishima brought the phone away from his ear, turning down the volume. “Nothing. Work is so boring, I want to die.”

Bokuto scoffed. _“It can’t be that bad.”_

“Four people came in since five.” Tsukishima deadpanned. “Try me.”

_“Yikes,”_ Bokuto laughed. _“Yo, what part of town is your bar in? I’m out right now, I’ll swing by and keep you company.”_

Tsukishima internally cheered. “I’ll text you the details. Don’t break anything, please.” He responded, not bothering to suppress the smile working it’s way onto his face.

_“See you there!”_ Bokuto shot back.

Tsukishima sighed, texting Bokuto before slipping his phone back under the table. He wasn’t sure why he chose to call Bokuto, but there was a nagging thought telling him that it might be some kind of escapism.

Tsukishima hummed, bending over to grab the actually liquor he rarely used. He made sure too grab opaque drinking glasses and switched the sign from open to closed, praying that no ghoul decides to bust into the bar that night.

Tsukishima indulged the idea of escapism, or more truthfully, Bokuto. It was refreshing, the way his blissful ignorance to the side of living Tsukishima was born into brought a new perspective into his life. Bokuto, who is kind and cheery and full of smiles. Bokuto, who makes films and likes mythology and sports. He probably had the exact opposite childhood as Tsukishima.

Tsukishima shot down the bitter thought. So what if he did? He took a deep breath, steadying himself. He wasn’t sure what the bubbling feeling in his chest was, but he sure as hell hoped it wasn’t nervousness.

The door to the bar opened, and Bokuto ducked it, his face pulled into a smile. Tsukishima relaxed slightly as he watched him shuck off his coat and hang it next to his before bounding over to sit next to him.

“This place is like, ten seconds from my apartment. How did I not know this existed?” He asked, looking around with wide eyes. 

Tsukishima shrugged, trying not to stare. “You want something to drink?” He asked, gesturing to the bottles he had lined up.

Bokuto eagerly nodded, simply requesting something fruity, a challenge enough for Tsukishima who, frankly, had no idea what fruity meant. He was aquatinted with normal bartending, however, and somehow managed to pull together a red cocktail, with some kind of peach liquor and a cherry on top.

Bokuto grinned, reaching out his hands to accept the drink eagerly. Tsukishima rolled his eyes at the action, but definitely did not miss the way he closed his eyes and hummed after taking the first sip.

Tsukishima popped the cork from his blood wine, pouring a liberal amount into his black glass. Bokuto scrunched his nose in distaste, causing Tsukishima to instantly go on edge.

“Ugh, how do you drink red? I tried it at a party once and nearly threw up.” Bokuto said.

Tsukishima let his self relax, moving around the bar to side down beside Bokuto. “It’s sophisticated.” He replied, taking a sip of his _not_ red wine as Bokuto laughed, warm and tumbling.

The conversation moved smoothly, and despite what he thought, Tsukishima talked more than he expected, throwing jabs at Bokuto only to be shot down as the older simply complimented him, sending him into a blush. Bokuto finished his drink much too quickly, the alcohol working it’s way into his bloodstream, sending him into a slightly flushed, giggling mess. 

Tsukishima smirked. Of course Bokuto was a lightweight.

The boy wasn’t drunk, but the alcohol had buzzed enough to make him relaxed enough tolean forward onto the bar, compliment Tsukishima’s eyes twice, and generally become increasingly giggly.

Bokuto leaned back on his stool, spinning around with a grin on his face. It was nice, just talking with Tsukishima. They didn’t often get to chat one-on-one, much less in person, so being next to him, with the taste of peach on his tongue, made his stomach stir.

“You know,” Bokuto said, leaning forwards onto the bar. “You’re super hot. Like, not just hot bod hot, but like, wow, you’re super pretty. You know?”

Bokuto didn’t let himself become dejected when Tsukishima scoffed and laughed slightly, because he could faintly spot the blush that rose on his cheeks. Was he flirting? He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of, was that his feeling were a webbed mess, and here he was, with Tsukishima, who was brushing his long fingers across his arm.

Bokuto’s chest fluttered as Tsukishima spoke again. “You’re not bad yourself.” He said, sipping at his drink again.

“Really?” Bokuto responded, eyes lighting up.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, but shot him a small smile, his eyes never leaving Bokuto’s as he sipped his drink again.

As Tsukishima put down his glass, Bokuto became aware of how close they really were. Tsukishima’s hands often brushed his when they moved, and when they spoke, their faces were close enough that Bokuto knew Tsukishima could spot the faint freckles littering his cheeks. They kept eye contact for a few moments, neither saying anything as Tsukishima let his eyes flick up and down Bokuto’s form. Bokuto took the silence as an opportunity to study the way Tsukishima’s face looked when he was curious.

Tsukishima reached forward, placing a delicate hand on Bokuto’s knee. Bokuto let his eyes flick down towards his hand before meeting Tsukishima’s eyes again. The boy leaned forward, close enough that their noses were almost touching.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Tsukishima asked, his voice low, lips parted.

Bokuto swallowed thickly, nodding. “My place is closer.”

Tsukishima smirked, moving to push up his glasses. “Alright.” He replied, and leaned forwards, pressing his lips against Bokuto’s

The kiss was anything but soft, Tsukishima's hands instantly gravitating towards Bokuto’s hair, lacing through the two toned strands as he pulled them closer together. Tsukishima parted his lips, allowing Bokuto to trace his teeth with his tongue. Tsukishima tasted like iron, but Bokuto pushed the thought away, pulling him closer as Tsukishima moved his mouth against him.

After a few moments, they pulled away, faces still close enough that Bokuto was inhaling Tsukishima’s every exhale. Tsukishima opened his half lidded eyes fully, smirking as he grabbed Bokuto's wrist and pulled him from the barstool and out of the door, fumbling with his keys as he locked the bar behind them. Bokuto giggled at Tsukishima's haste, hailing a cab and pulling the taller in.

Bokuto let his fingers trail across Tsukishima's thigh the entire ride, occasionally sliding them higher towards his stomach. Tsukishima responded by keeping his eyes fixed forwards and running a hand up and down Bokuto's bicep. The tension was thick in the air, so much so that when it came time to pay, Bokuto overpaid the driver, anxious to pull Tsukishima out of the car and into his apartment. 

It was Bokuto's turn to fumble with his keys, taking longer than it should've to open the door to the apartment and hold it open for Tsukishima, who, in one fluid movement, grabbed onto his shirt, shoving him back so he could slam the door, only to pull Bokuto back towards him, crashing their lips together in a mess off teeth. 

Bokuto responded by pinning Tsukishima against the wall, adjusting so that their mouths slotted together better, Tsukishima's tongue pushing into Bokuto's mouth. Bokuto groaned into the kiss, and Tsukishima hungrily swallowed his sounds as Bokuto moved his hands to grip onto his thighs, hoisting him upwards so that Tsukishima could wrap his his legs around Bokuto's torso. 

In this position, Tsukishima was forced to lean slightly down to kiss Bokuto, but that also meant that he had the leverage to grasp onto his broad shoulders and grind down, using every muscle in his body to keep himself upright. Bokuto groaned at the friction, the sound enough to make Tsukishima reconnect their lips, relishing in the way Bokuto’s tongue moved against his own. It was wet, but not unskilled, Bokuto’s hands massaging his ass as Tsukishima moved to tug on his hair again.

Bokuto’s grip around Tsukishima tightened, and he pulled him off of the wall. Tsukishima let himself drop so that he could be tugged forwards into Bokuto’s room and pushed onto the bed. Tsukishima watched with a smirk on his face, until Bokuto ran a hand under his shirt, sliding his hands up Tsukishima’s ribs, earning him a shudder. Bokuto pulled of his shirt in one smooth motion, leaning forwards to press open mouthed kisses down Tsukishima’s neck and collar.

Tsukishima whined impatiently, reaching upwards to tug at Bokuto’s shirt. He seemed to get the message, sitting upright to pull off his shirt, all while Tsukishima ogled his built physique. 

From there, everything was a blur of hasty hands, Tsukishima’s patience obliterated as he writhed under ever touch. And Bokuto, head between Tsukishima’s thighs, watched as he curled his toes, turning his face away from Bokuto’s glare.

And when Bokuto finally pushed inside of him, when Tsukishima raked his nails down Bokuto’s back, when Tsukishima came, arching his back and crying out, Bokuto felt a white hot surge, because he was immaculate.

And for a moment, through Tsukishima’s half lids, Bokuto thought he saw red and black eyes. 

But Bokuto soon forgot, the feeling on hands running over his skin and _Tsuki_ , _Tsuki_ , _Tsuki_ enough to clear his mind of anything other than the blond underneath him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> akaashi and oikawa dynamics are so fun to write look at those murderous friends !


	4. stab

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry??????? lmao but im writing so much tsukishima pov next chapter will be heavily akaashi for all ur akaashi needs  
> (also no one has commented on these chapter titles yet lmaooo)

Tsukishima slept in. 

The act in itself was unusual, something that he rarely did. When he woke, the sun was shining into the bedroom, blinding him as he blinked his eyes open, grumbling as he dragged his body from sleep. He felt warm, but soon realized that he had woken up alone, the bed deserted, covers tucked around him.

Tsukishima rubbed his eyes, reaching to smash his glasses onto his face. He threw away the covers, shivering at the cold air as he looked for something to throw on his naked body. Settling for a sweater that laid on the ground, Tsukishima pulled he garment and his boxers on. When he finally stood, running a hand through his bedhead, he spotted a hastily written letter on the beside table. He picked it up, reading through it quickly.

_Hey Tsukki!_

_I had to go to class, but you can help yourself to any food or coffee in the apartment. Beans are in the cabinet next to the fridge!!!!!! When you leave, theres a spare key lying on the counter in the kitchen~  
I’ll text you when I get out,_

_Bokuto <3_

Tsukishima scoffed at his handwriting, folding the note and slipping it into his jeans, which he reluctantly pulled on. Bokuto’s apartment had a draft, enough so that it chilled Tsukishima to stand with bare legs. 

He took a moment to observe the room. It was much bigger than Kuroo or Akaashi’s, though, that wasn't saying much. His bed was pushed a window, with soft star lights hanging from the curtain rod. It was oddly childish, but Tsukishima thought it fitting. Pressed against the wall was a desk littered with books of all kinds, a pushpin board leaned up against the wall. It held notes, doodles, and polaroids, the mess of pins endearing. There was a large ceiling to floor mirror, which, Tsukishima noticed, doubled as a closet.

On top of it all, upon wandering around the apartment, Bokuto had a bathroom with leg room, a living room that could fit multiple chairs, a kitchen, complete with a breakfast bar, and huge bookshelf, that half held books, the other half dedicated to movies.

Tsukishima shook his head, momentarily confused as to how Bokuto could afford any of it. He looked down the hall, where a camera and tripod were leaning. 

Right. Filmmaker.

Tsukishima helped himself to the coffee, drinking it fast enough that the taste burnt slightly. He set the cup in the sink, taking one more look at the apartment before grabbing his coat and leaving, locking the door behind him.

* * *

Kuroo put down his phone, flopping backwards onto the spring shot couch. He sighed, kicking his feet into the air.

Tsukishima sounded vaguelyannoyed when he called, which in general wasn’t unusual, but something seemed different about his voice. Kuroo shook it off, sitting up to clean his mess of an apartment before Tsukishima showed up.

Akaashi was sat crosslegged on the kitchen counter, watching as Kuroo swept the dust from the floor and into the trash, humming as he did so. He made no move to help, instead tilting his head as if he was focusing on something. Kuroo furrowed his brow, putting away his broom.

“What is it?” He asked, moving closer to lean against the counter.

Akaashi stayed still for a minute, pouting his lips slightly, a telltale sign of him focusing. He blinked the expression away, tearing his eyes from the door.

“Nothing.” Akaashi said. “I just thought I smelt something. Tsukishima is here, by the way.”

Not even a moment later did Tsukishima open the door, its hinges creaking as he slammed it behind him. His hair was ruffled and windswept, and for a moment, Kuroo thought he could smell Bokuto.

Akaashi scrunched his nose, uncrossing his legs. “You smell like sex.” He said to Tsukishima, narrowing his eyes slightly. “And Bokuto.”

Kuroo froze. He spun to face Tsukishima, more confused than he had been before. Kuroo knew what Akaashi was implying, and what with the sweater that hung loose around Tsukishima’s shoulders and the lingering smell on his skin, Kuroo could only come to one conclusion.

“What the hell, Tsukki?” He spat, leaning away from the counter.

Tsukishima looked taken aback, his features slightly offended as he replied. “What?”

Kuroo scoffed. “Seriously? You slept with him? Do you have any idea of how fucking dangerous that is?”

Tsukishima sighed, as if he was already expecting this conversation. He threw off his jacket like it was nothing, and moved to stand closer to him and Akaashi.

Anger boiled in Kuroo’s stomach. Bokuto, human Bokuto, could’ve been hurt, and the fact that Tsukishima seemed to care less made him want to pounce. Despite the frustration he was obviously feeling, Kuroo couldn’t find an inch of jealously. He groaned, leaning back to smack his head on the counter.

It was Akaashi who broke the tense silence, stepping off of the counter. 

“Bokuto is lovely, and kind, and beautiful. He’s a great person, and I’m happy for you, Tsukishima.” Akaashi said. “But I think what’s happening is bigger than just the fact that he’s human.”

The silence prevailed as Kuroo lifted his head, turning to look at Akaashi with slight confusion. Akaashi steadied himself, taking a breath before speaking again.

“I like him, but I’m in love with the both of you.” He said simply, as if reciting the weather. “And if we weren’t caught up in this overcomplicated love triangle, I’d go and ask him to join this conversation with us right now.”

Tsukishima’s shoulders visibly relaxed, but Kuroo’s stayed tense. He ran a hand through his hair, wildly shaking his head.

“Only, this is a love rectangle where all the sides connect and form a giant X in the centre, which, I think, is some weird voodoo message that this is a bad idea.” Said Kuroo, exasperated.

“So you do too?” Tsukishima interjected. “Like us, you mean.”

Kuroo’s face flushed red, and he turned away to lean over the counter again, shaking his head. “I just- it’s too dangerous.”

“Just being around us is dangerous for him.” Akaashi said, placing a hand on Kuroo’s shoulder. He pulled his body so that it was facing him, and grabbed his jaw, running a hand across his cheek. “You’re so kindhearted Kuroo, you would never hurt him. Tsukishima’s already proved he can too.”

Kuroo’s eyes softened, his body relaxing, but not before he could take Akaashi’s hand and push it away.

“And you?” He asked, looking down at Akaashi. 

Akaashi took a step back, scowling slightly. He turned to Tsukishima, expecting support, only to see him with his arms crossed.

“Kuroo has a point, Akaashi. You have the least control.” Tsukishima told him.

Akaashi shook his head. “Only when I use my kajuka, which he’ll hopefully never see. Besides, he’s not the only one in danger when I’m like that.”

Kuroo hesitated, even as Tsukishima moved to wrap his arms around his side in effort to calm his nervous form.

“And what makes you think that he won’t hate us if he finds out we’re what we are? Ghouls?” Kuroo asked.

“What makes you think he’ll accept our confession?” Tsukishima caught back, running a hand down Kuroo’s back.

“So we tell him everything then.” Akaashi told them.

Kuroo immediately shook his head. “No, absolutely not. He can’t know about this.”

“So we leave him in the dark, not knowing what he’s getting into?” Akaashi asked.

Tsukishima shot Akaashi a glare before shaking his head. “I agree, we have to tell him eventually, but we can’t overwhelm him. We can tell him once we’re sure he’s as committed as we are.”

Akaashi nodded, though begrudgingly, before sighing and letting himself fall forwards onto Kuroo’s chest. Kuroo stumbled backwards at the force, but managed to wrap his free hand around Akaashi and pull him close.

_It’ll work out,_ Kuroo thought, breathing in the scent of Akaashi’s perfume and Tsukishima’s hair. _It’s all going to be fine._

* * *

Bokuto didn’t know what to feel.

He was sitting, laptop open on the work he was supposed to be doing, not touching the keys to start working. He couldn’t bring himself to work, thoughts still swarming his head as he tried to work.

He couldn’t understand it, why he had gone so far with Tsukishima if he thought he liked Kuroo. It wasn’t that he didn’t; the mere thought of sweeping his bangs aside and nuzzling into his chest made his heart flutter, but when he thought of Tsukishima pressed up against him, sleeping silently in his arms, it was much of the same reaction. And Akaashi, Akaashi with his brooding nature and secret soft smiles, with his eyes that blow wide when he is curious, how hi mouth rests with lips parted.

Bokuto groaned, letting his head fall forwards onto the table. It was too confusing for him to deal with, the idea enough to make his head ache. He brought himself back upright, leaning forwards to start working, just as a loud knock echoed through his apartment.

Seeking any kind of distraction, Bokuto closed his laptop and made his way through the apartment towards the door. Rubbing his eyes, he pulled it open, not expecting for the person waiting behind it to grab him by the collar and pull him into a kiss.

Bokuto immediately pulled away in surprise. “Akaashi?” He stuttered.

Akaashi simply leaned forwards to rest his head against his chest, breathing him in as he wrapped his arms around Bokuto’s back. Bokuto looked down at his black hair, then up to face the other figures standing in the doorway.

Kuroo looks nervous, fiddling with the hem of his jacket as he stood beside Tsukishima, who, upon first glance, seemed fine, but looking closer, you could see the way he was picking at his fingers while they waited.

“Tsukki, Kuroo, what’s-” Bokuto started, but was cut off but Kuroo, who finally got the courage to crack a smile.

“We can do this the awkward serious way or the shojo manga way.” He said. “And I think Akaashi chose the later.”

Bokuto stood like a deer caught in the headlights, stunned and frozen as Tsukishima made his way into the apartment. Akaashi looked up, arms still wrapped around his torso as Tsukishima pried him away so that Bokuto could back away from the doorway. 

Bokuto shook his head, trying to snap himself from his daze. Kuroo grabbed his wrist, tugging him towards the living room so that he can sit down.

“I just don’t get it, y’know?” Bokuto said. “What’s going on?”

Kuroo cleared his throat, before looking over to Tsukishima, who, always tsundere, looked over to Akaashi. Akaashi smiled, tucking a stray hair behind his ear.

“We like you.” He said simply. “And, each other, I guess. In a romantic way.”

“ _What_?” Bokuto squeaked. He coughed, blushing in embarrassment . “I mean, sorry?”

Kuroo shot him a small smile before reaching behind his head to rub his neck. “Like, Tsukishima came home, and he told us, about, you two, and we realized that it was more than just liking one person.” He explained. He paused, face falling at Bokuto’s stunned expression. “You don’t- do you feel the same way?”

Bokuto stopped his racing thoughts for a moment, taking a deep breath to slow his mind. Did he? Was that why he could never stop thinking about the way Akaashi laughed, light and airy, how Tsukishima’s smile, the dip of his collar, how it made him swoon, or how Kuroo and his catlike smirk made his stomach flutter?

And Bokuto found himself grinning stupid wide, nodding, because yeah, that was the case. Kuroo leapt forwards with a smile, planting a big, wet kiss on his cheek before tackling him backwards into a hug. Bokuto laughed as he was pushed onto the couch, Kuroo now trailing kisses down his jaw, his teeth catching his skin as he smiled. In an instant, his fingers had crept under Bokuto’s sweater, relentlessly tickling at his sides.

Bokuto let out a squawk, kicking his arms and legs and Kuroo mercilessly continued to tickle him, sending waves of giggles from Bokuto’s mouth. 

“‘Kaashi, Tsu-kki, save me!” He choked out, a grin on his face.

Akaashi looked over to Tsukishima, who simply sighed, walking over to the pair with a devilish look on his face. He approached Kuroo from behind, and leaned over top of him, sliding one hand up his chest, the other down his thigh. He leaned close to his ear, letting out a faint breath, and that alone was enough to make Kuroo freeze long enough fro Akaashi to swoop in and pin Kuroo so that Bokuto could get his revenge.

And amongst the laughter and the tickles, among Bokuto’s smiles and Kuroo’s screams, Akaashi looked up to face Tsukishima, who had a look of such fondness stuck on his face. Akaashi smiled, not loosening his grip on Kuroo’s even as he leaned over towards Tsukishima, who had now stiffened slightly. But the younger soon softened as Akaashi pressed a soft kiss to him, only this time, it was on his lips, his tongue swiping across so softly.

It was just them, just the four of them, just for a moment.

* * *

Tsukishima, although he would deny it, loved sleeping over at Bokuto’s. Often times, the four would crash at Kuroo and Akaashi’s after movie dates and the like, simply because it was home to half of them already, but Bokuto’s apartment was more spacious.

There was also a matter of breakfast.

Tsukishima stood, cracking another egg into the frying pan carefully, as to make sure the shell wouldn't get in the mix. He threw in some cheese that was lying in the fridge, praying that the flavour combination would work so that Bokuto enjoyed it.

Bokuto was sat at the kitchen counter, sipping at a glass of grapefruit juice, humming to a tune only he could year. Kuroo and Akaashi, ever the night owls, still laid in bed, sleeping away as the restless Tsukishima cooked for the first time in his life.

He must’ve came off as grumpy, because Bokuto didn't say much, choosing only to smile at him, big and toothy, and he handed him a cup of coffee. Tsukishima mumbled a thanks as he stirred the eggs and cheese, the smell not appetizing to him, but certainly to Bokuto, who hummed before running a hand through his hair.

Another perk of being a restless sleeper: Tsukishima got to witness Bokuto’s bedhead in all of its un-gelled glory.

Bokuto caught him staring, and flashed him another smile, moving to wrap an arm around his waist. Tsukishima moved it as he pulled the pan away, scooping the eggs onto Bokuto’s plate. Bokuto was quick to grab his chopsticks and scoop some into his mouth, moaning at the taste before hastily shoving more.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, sipping at his coffee. “Remember to chew,” He said, Bokuto already coughing slightly after practically inhaling the food. Tsukishima was more than surprised at Bokuto’s willingness to eat his attempt at cooking.

“Tsukki- this is amazing!” He exclaimed. “Try some!”

Tsukishima took a breath, leaning down to scoop some of the eggs into his mouth. He swallowed quickly, not wanting to taste the burnt rubber flavour that human food gave off. He faked chewing as he shrugged, swallowing coffee to wash down the taste.

“It’s alright.” He responded.

There was a creak, causing the pair to turn their heads to see Akaashi, doe eyed with a much large sweater pulled over his slender frame. Tsukishima and Bokuto both froze, momentarily stunned by his beauty as he moved towards them. Akaashi grumbled a hello, moving past them to grab at the coffee before downing an entire cup in seconds.

“Akaaashi,” Bokuto said, resting his chin atop his head. “Tsukishima made really good eggs.”

Akaashi shook his head. “M’not hungry. Kiss.” He demanded, moving to slightly pout his lips.

Tsukishima shook his head as Bokuto grinned and pecked his lips, before Akaashi turned to face Tsukishima expectingly.

“You’re so clingy when you wake up.” Tsukishima scoffed, but leaned down, capturing his lips quickly.

Akaashi responded by wrapping his arms around Tsukishima, leaning forwards to continue lazily kissing him. The pair heard Bokuto’s hum of contempt in the background, and, faintly, Kurooentering.

“Mm, taking advantage of sleepy Akaashi are we?” He said with a smirk, moving to lean against Bokuto, who gladly allowed him, throwing an arm over his shoulder.

“Sh, before the magic is gone.” Bokuto whispered back, as if the two directly in front of him couldn't hear.

Kuroo grinned, rubbing his eyes as he wriggled closer into Bokuto’s strong hold, relishing in his warmth. He smelt like sandalwood, having already showered, and fresh laundry. Kuroo inhaled the scent that was so uniquely him, and let himself fall into a soft morning.

* * *

Tsukishima was walked through the streets of Tokyo, headphones in as he made his way towards Yamaguchi’s campus to meet him for coffee and, in his words,  _spill the details of your clusterfuck off a love life._ Tsukishima looked down at his phone, his finger hovering over Yamaguchi’s contact. He could call to say he was on his way, but that’d be pointless, seeing as he was never late for their meetings either way.

It was funny, he supposed, how different they ended up being despite being raised together. Their mother’s, oh so close, had had them together since babies, staying close even through their deaths. And since then, they’d watched each other grow into drastically different people. Tsukishima, always violent, choosing to embrace the part of him the world hated, owning up to his name as _The Widow_ as a deadly, quiet killer. Yamaguchi always supported him, but stayed on the sides, choosing to prove he wasn’t what the world thought a ghoul was, a vengeful killer, an emotionless bastard with no future. Tsukishima helped him get into university, and Yamaguchi never once looked down on his violent nature. They were practically siblings, and despite life pulling them apart, remained close as ever.

Tsukishima stumbled into a puddle as a few girls pushed by, running in the opposite direction. He clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes as he continued forwards, the campus entrance now in sight. 

The campus was oddly quiet, the odd student running past before ducking into a building just as quick as they came. Tsukishima wasn’t quick sure what was off as he made his way towards the coffee shop, but it only took a moment before he could see it.

The glass of the shop windows was shattered, tables overturned and broken into small shards. Tsukishima approached with caution, smelling the air for anything that could be possibly dangerous. He moved to grab his phone and call Yamaguchi, when he noticed a familiar scent.

Tsukishima took a deep breath, fearing the worse as he moved to see two figures wielding metal briefcases, obviously from the CCG. One sported mid length bleached hair, his roots overgrown. He looked bored with the situation, his hands tucked into his long jacket’s pockets. Beside him, stood a taller, grinning boy, with stitches up his arms and down his neck, his button down untucked and stained with red. 

And standing between them, limp with both eyes red and gouged out, was Yamaguchi Tadashi’s dead body, clothes torn and soaked red with his own blood.

And Tsukishima tried to control himself, force his kakugan down so that his eyes wouldn’t go black and red, and keep himself from pouncing on the pair with ever ounce of strength he had. He felt sick to his stomach, a sensation that never once in his nineteen years of life he had felt, the image of Yamaguchi, eyes hollow, jaw agape, burnt onto his eyelids.

Tsukishima staggered backwards, crunching a piece of glass and causing the investigators to turn their heads to face him. The one with longer hair narrowed his eyes, but the one covered in stitches merely smiled.

“Hello! Don’t be alarmed, we’re from the CCG! Besides, this dirty old ghoul won’t hurt you any more!” The stitched one said. He extended a blood stained hand to Tsukishima, who struggled to keep his world from spinning. 

Even before he could introduce himself, Tsukishima instantly knew who the pair were. Both had a notorious reputation among investigators and ghouls, for being both deadly and preying on ghouls as young as children. Daishou Suguru, a boy with stitches, who quickly rose to the top of his class after slaughtering a ghoul after the rest of his squad died, and Kozume Kenma, known as the CCG’s reaper.

Tsukishima took one last pained glance at Yamaguchi before turning to leave, only to be stopped by Kenma, who had grabbed his shoulder.

“Why did you come here?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.

Tsukishima let a plastic smile creep on his face. “Oh, I was just going to meet with a friend, but I guess they left.” He said. He tore his eyes away from Yamaguchi’s corpse as Kenma dropped his hand, signalling that Tsukishima could leave. 

And as fast as he could, Tsukishima bolted across the campus, his throat already beginning to tighten. Yamaguchi, who just wanted to live as a human, his friend, his _brother_ , was dead, lifeless at the hands of investigators who didn’t even care.

Furiously blinking tears from his eyes, Tsukishima ducked into an all, slamming his fist against the brick wall. Why Yamaguchi, who only ate what food Tsukishima packaged and brought for him? Why Yamaguchi, who never made any move to kill? Tsukishima kicked at the wall again, the brick crumbling slightly at the force.

Tears were streaming down his face as he stumbled back into the street, making his way towards Akaashi and Kuroo’s apartment in a daze. His entire body felt as if it were lead, pulling him down into the concrete sidewalks as he moved forwards through the throngs of people. The apartment couldn’t come soon enough, and when Tsukishima arrived at the door, Kuroo was the one two answer, a look of worry in his eyes.

“They killed him,” He choked, stepping away from Kuroo’s arms. “They killed Yamaguchi.”

Kuroo froze, his eyes widening as he pulled tsukishima into the apartment, moving him so that he could lie on the couch. Kuroo sat in his lap, curling his arms around the taller as he began to rock side to side in effort to comfort him.

“I can’t even go after the _bastards_ because they saw me, and they could track it back to me, or to any of us now.” He said, stumbling on his words. 

Kuroo tensed at that, but counted to rub Tsukishima’s back as Akaashi entered, having overheard their conversation from the next room. He ran a hand through Tsukishima’s hair, smoothing his fingertips over his scalp.

“Just because we can’t get back at them today doesn’t mean we never will. The opportunity will come and be better than if we sought it out now.” Akaashi told him. “Yamaguchi was smart and kind, he wouldn’t have wanted you to get killed because of him.”

“He was like my _brother_ ,” Tsukishima cried. “The closest thing I had left to family.”

Akaashi continued to stoke Tsukishima’s hair, lying his head on his shoulder as Kuroo pulled back to place his forehead against Tsukishima’s, staring him in the eyes,

“You have us,” He said, voice low and warm and comforting and _Kuroo_. “And I promise, we will never leave you”

Tsukishima, in a moment of pure unadulterated emotion, let himself break, heavy sobs raking through his body. And in that moment, all he wanted was normalcy that Yamaguchi yearned for so badly, to be able to live life without fearing death around every corner. His heart ached, his bones hurt, and despite all of the warmth around him, he felt cold as ice.

That night, he called Bokuto, and said that a cousin he used to be close to passed as an alibi. Bokuto comforted him, offered to go over, but Tsukishima declined, opting just to hear Bokuto speak while Kuroo sat beside him, Akaashi at his feet.

_What a sick kind of normalcy,_ Tsukishima thought to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: so a logical way to end a chapter full of love and fluff is-  
> my brain, banging pots and pans: death ! death ! pain ! gore !  
> rip in peace yams, u were a joy 2 write  
> also!! Kenma and daishou, salt twins and one of my rarepairs. i modelled them after 2 Tokyo ghoul characters for the fuck of it


	5. ache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops

Things are wonderful, at least when Kuroo isn’t focusing on the pit in his stomach that was starting to grow larger and larger with every passing day.

Bokuto’s cuddles are enough to melt his worries most days, and Akaashi seems to have found a way to read his mind, because as soon as he begins to worry, he is there, wrapping arms around him and kissing softly into his neck. Tsukishima is tense, jumping at sudden contact, snapping when he doesn't sleep. Kuroo’s heart falters at seeing him this way, at having to witness him in a state so despondent. They don’t all live together, meaning Tsukishima was too often left alone to sulk. 

It’s not all that bad, though. Weeks pass, and the pain Yamaguchi’s death faded to a dull ache aggravated only when touched. Tsukishima refused to talk about it, but Kuroo could see it in his eyes, the way they’d stare blankly for a second too long to be accidental, the way he carried his body with such tension. 

And what made it worse was that he couldn't say it, couldn't cry into one of his boyfriends arms. And so he lied, as did they all. They lied, and lied, and buried the feeling of guilt in kisses and sweat slicked skin and Bokuto’s warm hugs instead.

It was only so long that Kuroo could take it, take watching Tsukishima hold something like that inside of him. So, one night, he left the bed he and Akaashi now shared, slipping his mask onto his face before slipping into the night.

Kuroo did not have a death wish. He was always the one to protest needless death, and yet here he was, creeping in the night across the city towards where he had been told a raid was in progress. As he grew closer, the shouts of ghouls and investigators alike became louder, enough so that he could pick up on the conversation.

“Please don’t take this personally!” A voice exclaimed. “It’s just that you’ve annoyed me enough that I cannot let you go, ma’am.”

A shrill shriek pierced the air, and Kuroo chose the moment to leap from the shadows, pouncing down on the investigator and sending him reeling. Kuroo surged forwards, kagune extended to swipe at the investigator’s feet, only for them to dodge and giggle. 

“Oh, The Cat decides to make an appearance!” The investigator exclaimed, swinging his weapon forward. Kuroo dodged, jumping to get better leverage.

“Daishou Suguru,” Kuroo spits.

Daishou giggles, sticks his split tongue out as he swings at Kuroo again. His weapon, a quinque, was an axe like tool, larger than him. It grazed the side of Kuroo’s arm, but not before he could stab Daishou in the leg. Daishou seemed unaffected by the gouge, still moving forward with a bitter laugh to swing at Kuroo again and again.

“Oo, feisty!” He shouted as Kuroo pounced towards him. He leaned forwards, aiming a kick at his side only for Kuroo to grab the leg and push him away. Daishou smashed against the wall with a thunk, getting up quickly before giggling and skipping down the alley.

“My-my, kitty, we can play chase, or call it a draw. I’m quite tired, can we chat later?” Daishou asked. 

Kuroo growled, sending all three of his kagune forwards at Daishou, twisting so that he stomach wasn’t exposed. Daishou was quicker, hacking at one of his tails and slicing at his stomach before giggling and skipping off as Kuroo was left to heal.

Kuroo hissed, the wound deep. Daishou snickered, strolling away.

“Until next time!” He shouted. “Give the ghouls my love!”

Kuroo crawled forwards in attempt to catch him, but failed, only scraping at the ground. He knew Daishou, and it was clear that he had left for backup or something of the like. If Kuroo didn't get away soon, he’d be dead where he stood.

With every ounce of strength possible, he pulled himself up, his breath hot inside of his mask. He didn’t heal anywhere as quickly as Tsukishima, let alone Akaashi, and the wound on his stomach had already begun to pool over his fingers. He staggered forwards, begrudgingly using a brick wall for support as he heads towards the tunnels to travel home.

The tunnels, weaving through the sewers, are damp and dim, the sound of his blood dripping into the puddles echoing off the concrete walls. Kuroo was only somewhat familiar with these paths, relying solely on luck to know when to climb from the depths of the underground back into the streets. His wound still bled heavily, soaking through his clothes and running down his leg.

Kuroo pulled off his mask as he approached the apartment building, stuffing it in his coat as he made his way through the building, rushing as not to drip blood on the floor. He’d done it before, and learnt the hard way that the landlord doesn't appreciate cleaning up after those kinds of messes.

Kuroo staggered towards his apartment, throwing open the unlocked door where Akaashi was already waiting, scowl on his pretty face, rag in hand. Kuroo threw his mask onto the floor as Akaashi dragged him to the kitchen, lifting him onto the counter. Kuroo laughed airily at the unnecessary motion, but Akaashi simply shot him a glare that read _shut up_ clear enough.

Akaashi pulled Kuroo’s shirt off of him, using a wet cloth, soaked in what must’ve been alcohol, to wipe down the wound on his stomach and the one on his arm. Kuroo hissed at the sting, but knew that cleaning the wound would help it to heal.

“Why’d you do this?” Akaashi asked. “Who did this?”

Kuroo smiled weakly, praying that Akaashi would drop the question. When he didn't Kuroo sighed, rolling out the kink in his neck.

“Dove. The one that killed Yamaguchi.” He said simply. “I can’t watch him act like this.”

Akaashi began wrapping the bandage around Kuroo’s mid-rift. “What good is revenge when it’s not at your own hand?”

Kuroo stayed silent, realizing Akaashi had a point. Akaashi slipped in front of him, grabbing his face with both of his hands. He sighed through his nose, burrowing his face into the crook of Kuroo’s neck, leaving a warm kiss there.

“Don’t go out alone like that without saying something at least.” Akaashi said, voice muffled by Kuroo’s shoulder.

Kuroo reached forward, careful not to strain his wound as he wrapped an arm around Akaashi, holding him close. It was the closest thing Akaashi would get to ever uttering the words _I was scared, i was scared you wouldn't come back._ Kuroo had caught onto his hidden fear, of being weak and small and _not enough_ to protect. Kuroo held onto to Akaashi tighter. He hoped that he knew he was enough.

* * *

Bokuto loved Sundays, because they meant a few things. One, they were his long run days, days where he let himself go farther than his usual path, leading him through the city. Two, Sundays where when the bakeries opened, meaning he could swing by and grab a fresh, home cooked muffin for breakfast. And three, Sundays were their days.

Bokuto slowed his jog to a walk, wiping the sweat from his upper lip as he made his way through their building, grimacing at the small stain on the lobby carpet that he hoped was wine. The elevator wasn’t working, per usual, so instead he took to the stairs, bonding upwards two at a time to race to Kuroo and Akaashi’s floor. When he arrived, he fished his key from his pocket, fanning himself as he opened the door, trying to keep quiet. The act was in vain, as it creaked loud enough to echo through the small apartment in seconds. Neither Kuroo nor Akaashi was awake yet. Bokuto sighed when he realized they weren't going to bound out of the bedroom and shout at him, relaxing into the wall as he shut the door behind him. 

Bokuto hummed, shucking off his windbreaker and hanging it next to Kuroo’s jacket, kicking off his shoes and whispering a _pardon the intrusion_ for good measure. He leaned back, cracking his shoulder and moving towards the kitchen to grab a glass of water before helping himself to the shower before Kuroo and Akaashi woke up. It was then that he spotted it, a small black heap in the corner of the kitchen, throw away as if with haste. Curious, Bokuto picked it up, turning it over in his heads.

It was a mask, a cat mask, to be more specific. Bokuto played with the zipper on the mouth, a creepy like thing, with a wide smile. It only covered three quarters of a face, and secured around his head and neck. Bokuto looked at the fabric, well sewn, and defiantly not cheap, wondering what it’s use would be.

Oh. _Oh_.

Bokuto had no choice but to break out in laughing, trying to hush himself by taking a drink of his water. Of course, _of_ _course_. _Leave it to Akaashi and Kuroo to do the weird shit_ , he thought, shaking his head and placing it back on the counter before moving to sip at his glass again.

It was a few minutes later before Kuroo and Akaashi emerged, sleepy eyed and practically attached on the hip. Bokuto’s heart soared at the image of Akaashi, hair ruffled with his arm around Kuroo’s side, who looked a little like he hadn't slept in a year.

Bokuto threw the mask to him, and Kuroo caught it with his free hand, instantly froze when he realized what it was. Bokuto made no effort to hide his laughter now, shaking his head and giggling in his hand.

“I can’t believe it, pet play, really?” Bokuto said, shooting a grin towards the pair, who had since calmed down significantly. “What do you even do? Like, nya?” He said, bringing a hand to his face, doing his best cat impression. 

Akaashi scoffed, pulling out of Kuroo’s grasp while Kuroo blushed a terrible shade of red, sputtering something unintelligible before Bokuto swooped down and planted a kiss to his lips, pulling away with a grin.

“You stink.” Kuroo said, the words finally forming. 

Bokuto kissed him again before bumping his hip with his own. “You’re not much better, babe.”

Akaashi made a sound of agreement as he brewed the coffee, earning a squawk of offence from Kuroo. Bokuto buried himself into the crook of Kuroo’s neck, snuggling himself there. Kuroo wrapped his arms around him, holding him there before pulling away.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” Bokuto said, grinning up towards Kuroo as he took a step away towards the bathroom.

Kuroo smirked, reaching down to slap his ass. “I’ll join. Coming, Akaashi?”

Akaashi shook his head. “‘M too tired. ‘Sides, Kei is coming soon.” He mumbled, pouring his coffee before collapsing into the armchair, snuggling up immediately. 

Bokuto smiled, blowing him a kiss, shouting _Love ya, Keiji!_ back at him as Kuroo practically dragged him into the bathroom, simply smiling back towards Akaashi.

Kuroo turned once they entered the washroom, fiddling with the dials on the shower. They were unusually tricky to work, either spewing scalding water or glacier run off in a matter of one turn. Kuroo, however, had mastered the tap, getting it to a comfortable setting in a matter of minutes. Bokuto instead took that time to strip from his sweat soaked clothes, pulling his shirt off first being tossing his shorts and boxers into a pile in the corner of the room.

Kuroo looked back over to him jaw slack, eyes wide and drinking in. Bokuto grinned as Kuroo licked his lips, a dumbstruck look on his face as he pulled off his pyjamas. It was then that Bokuto let a hand trail over arm, to where a large, pink scar laid, raised and lighter than the rest of Kuroo’s skin. Bokuto didn't let his fingers trail on the mark for very long, in fear of making Bokuto uncomfortable. Instead, he looked up to meet Kuroo’s eyes, tugging him into the shower and under the scary.

Kuroo let out a sigh, his breath shaky, arms instinctively moving to wrap around Bokuto’s shoulders. Bokuto slipped his hands around Kuroo’s waist, moving got press his face into the crook of his neck. It was warm, even without the heat of the spray, Kuroo’s body kept him warm as water pelted against them. The water trickled down Kuroo’s hair, flattening it against his scalp. They stood for a few moment, in each other’s arms, before Kuroo pulled away, pushing Bokuto’s hair from his eyes.

When Kuroo leaned back down, he slotted their mouths together, pressing his warm body up against Bokuto’s own. The pair breathed heavy through their noses, Bokuto moving to press Kuroo against the shower wall, slow, gradual, like pouring honey. 

And Kuroo was sweet, his kisses soft and skilled despite the water that slipped down their faces and trickled into their mouths as they kissed, bodies flush in more ways than one. It wasn’t lazy, but slow in the way many mornings were. Bokuto eased up on Kuroo, giving him enough space between the wall so that he could slip his hands down his back, admiring the muscles before moving to his spine, the small of his back, the curve of his ass. Kuroo sighed through his nose, breath heavy as Bokuto moved against him.

And later, when the water ran cold, Bokuto couldn't find reason to complain, because Kuroo was warm enough.

* * *

Akaashi noticed it on Monday evening, the way Kuroo seemed to switch between a state of bliss and anxiety, the way he licked his lips more often than normal, pulled his fingers through his hair. Tsukishima was dozing on the couch, eyes shut, glasses still perched on his nose. He looked peaceful when he slept, his scowl dropping for something softer, an expression so much more relaxed than what he usually held.

Kuroo, however, was drumming his fingers against the table, bouncing his leg an twitching. He was restless, that much Akaashi could see. Akaashi looked towards him, meeting his eyes. Kuroo stopped immediately, as if Akaashi’s gaze commanded him to relax

Akaashi knew better, knew that he was simply pretending rather than trying to calm down. He moved from his perch on the counter to lean against the wall next to Kuroo moving a hand to slip through his mess of a hairstyle in time with his breathing.

The question, unsaid, only lingering: _What’s wrong?_

Kuroo answered with his words, opening his mouth to speak. “Bokuto, he found-”

“Your mask.” Akaashi supplied, moving his hand down Kuroo’s neck. “He has no idea what masks mean to ghouls.”

“He saw it, though, now if he catches me with it he’ll know it’s me.” Kuroo said, moving his arms to clutch around his shoulder’s. In his sleep, Tsukishima stirred, enough so that his eyes began to flutter.

“Bokuto doesn’t think you’re a ghoul, Tetsurou, it’s alright.” Akaashi whispered. “Have you eaten?”

Kuroo shook his head. “Nn, ‘m fine.” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. Akaashi didn't believe him, gripping onto his forearm and hoisting him from his chair and towards the fridge. Kuroo looked like he was going to protest, but one look at Akaashi shut him up, cause dim to sigh and lean against the counter as Akaashi opened the fridge. 

They kept meat hidden, in a chrome container labelled _sardines_ to warn off anyone, note, Bokuto, who may try to check it out. Akaashi opened the lid, handing it over to Kuroo, who took it and began eating as soon as it was his.

When he had finished, he looked visibly better, body straightening, eyes opening a bit wider. Akaashi smiled, kissing him softly before pulling away.

_Safe_ , Akaashi thought, _I have to keep them safe._

* * *

The CCG’s headquarters was busy as usual, people pushing by in pairs or groups, mumbling worriedly, or boasting about their latest kill. It was boring to Daishou, who was whistling as he moved through the scanners. His senior partner was supposed to show up an hour ago, if the meeting was running on schedule. Daishou assumed it wasn’t, which would explain his absence.

Only a moment later did he spot him, bleached hair and brown roots showing. Someone was trying to hold a conversation with him, and obviously was failing, falling a pace behind as his partner, Kenma, gave a shrug or a nod in response to whatever they said. By the time Kenma had made his way over to Daishou, the man had left, giving up on conversation.

“Kenma!” Daishou explained, skipping forwards. “Suga-san told me that we get to work together to solve our cases while the team for The Phoenix is still working!”

Kenma looked up, cocking his head. “We should be focusing on the Phoenix.” He replied, before turning away and continuing to walk.

“Yes, but why not share cases so that way we won’t have to worry about working on our own? It’s a good idea, you know it.” Daishou said in a sing song tone.

Kenma sighed, shrugging, which was the closest Daishou got to a yes. He grinned, slinging an arm around Kenma before they walked out of the CCG’s doors. A few people stared, but it could’ve been Daishou’s fashion choice, a button down, suspenders and torn skinny jeans. Kenma didn’t bother to shrug off his arm, so Daishou pulled him closer, grinning with glee.

_The cat won’t be in hiding for long~_

* * *

Bokuto is filming with Asahi and Yui again when his boyfriends come up in conversation, Yui mentioning it casually as she sips her water.

“You made some friends outside of uni, haven’t you?” She asked.

Bokuto froze, cocking his head. “Yeah how’d you know?”

Yui shrugged. “You’re usually clingy in class, but you stopped awhile ago. Why don't you invite them to come to dinner with us after shooting sometimes? Or maybe they can play extras or something.”

“I don’t know,” Bokuto said. “They’re pretty broke, they hardly eat when I’m out.”

Yui looked confused, narrowing her eyes. “Hardly eat?”

“Yeah, and even when I go over, they never have much food.” Bokuto told Yui. He paused for a moment, contemplating. “Kuroo’s like me, we jog together sometimes, so he’s super health cautious, I guess. Tsukishima just has like, no appetite. I swear, like, if you give him food, he eats it no problem, but he never complains about hunger. Akaashi, on the other hand, I think he’s uncomfortable with eating in public.”

Yui studied him for a moment, before shrugging, tucking his bag over her shoulder. “Whatever. I’m gonna go now, see you.”

Bokuto shouted his goodbye, watching as her and Asahi packed up. He was careful with his things, making sure that the camera was secured before picking up his bag and hailing a cab. He was not going to make the same mistake as last time.

When the driver asked for his destination, Bokuto paused, thinking. He settled on Akaashi and Kuroo’s, deciding that he could use the spare key to enter and surprise them. The prospects of a movie night lingered, and Bokuto grinned, leaning back into the car seat, smiling.

Yui’s words still lingered in the back of his mind, voicing thoughts that never crossed his mind. Was it odd that he never really saw Akaashi eating? He figured he wasn’t sick; Akaashi had proved to be the strongest of the bunch, but fact still unsettled him. In fact, he rarely saw any of his boyfriends eat, never once had them complain of hunger. 

Bokuto’s thoughts were halted once he arrived at Kuroo and Akaashi’s. He paid his fare before hauling himself out of the cab and up the steps to the apartment door, keying it open and slipping inside.

“Hello!” He called out, plopping his bag on the ground. He looked around, not seeing anyone in the living area. The apartment was dead quiet, signally no one was home. Bokuto shrugged, figuring that maybe Kuroo had to stay late, and that Akaashi went to visit. He did drop by accidentally.

He moved through the apartment, not seeing anyone in the living room/kitchen. He slipped into the main bedroom to find it empty. Bokuto sighed. That’s what he got for not calling, he realized. He looked to his left, at the study room that Akaashi used to sleep in. Curiosity overcame him, and Bokuto pushed open the door, slipping inside the small room.

There was a desk pushed against the wall, a cot folded up and tucked into the corner. A mirror was leaned against the wall haphazardly instead of nailed, leaving a small nook behind it. Bokuto turned to the closet, pulling the door open. It was probably meant for brooms, the shelves now holding a few plain shirts and jeans, some nicer wear hung on hangers on the hooks. Bokuto pursed his lips, bored, and slammed the door.

He jumped, the noise created much louder than he anticipated. Another bang followed, and Bokuto whipped his head around to see that the mirror had fell over. The floor was carpet, so it luckily hadn't shattered. There were a few things behind the mirror, a pair of heeled boots, a few pens,but something else had caught his eye.

Lying on the ground was a fiery mask, in vibrant shades of orange and red. Bokuto looked down at it, his face falling. He kneeled onto the ground, picking up the mask and turning it over in his hands. The details made it shimmer, and the nose was pulled into a thin beak, as if it was supposed to resemble-

Bokuto froze.

_A Phoenix._

Images and words filled his mind, racing through and flashing images in front of him.

_black and red and horrifying-_

_Slaughtering another team of CCG investigators, most of their corpses were not found-_

_Ghouls also wear masks to hide their identity-_

_They never really seem to eat, y’know-_

Bokuto fell backwards, heartbeat thumping as images of that night ran through his head. The creature, the ghoul, with jet black hair and the mask, _the mask-_

“No,” Bokuto mumbled, shaking his head. “No no no no.”

He took a deep breath, looking sat the mask in his hands. The thing, the ghoul that slaughtered the people he saw in the alley, the thing that tried to kill him, was Akaashi.

Bokuto took a deep breath, throwing the mask onto the ground. _Okay,_ He thought. _Problem solve. What context clues make him a ghoul?_ He asked himself.

He stood up, his legs shaking. There was the first one, the mask, a perfect match of the one on The Phoenix. Second, the ghoul had black hair, fair skin. Ghoul’s were strong, he knew that. Akaashi had beat him in arm wrestling, and apparently had beaten everyone else as well. And there was the fact that he didn’t eat.

Bokuto let out a shaky breath, moving to run his fingers through his hair. He couldn't contain the squeezing feeling in his chest as he moved to the living room, flopping down onto the floor in panic as he tried to think. How could Akaashi, soft, loving Akaashi, be a killer?

He didn't have time to think through, because just then, the door to the apartment opened, and in walked Kuroo, Akaashi and Tsukishima. Kuroo was snickering about something with Tsukishima, whose hand was intertwined with his, but Akaashi was the one to open the door, and the first one to see Bokuto on the ground. He froze, instantly making his way over.

“Bokuto, are you okay?” He asked, furrowing his brow and moving to sit beside him. Bokuto flinched, eyes widening in a moment with terror before he coughed and plastered a smile on his face.

“Peachy, yeah!” He sputtered, slipping up onto the couch. “Thought I’d stop by, and we could watch a movie or something.”

Akaashi’s face fell for a moment, and he was hesitant to rest a hand on his shoulder. Bokuto seemed tense, too tense to be normal.

“Hectic day?” Kuroo asked, flopping down next to him. Bokuto laughed half heartedly, gravitating towards Kuroo’s touch as he began to talk about his day, a grumpy teacher, busy shoot. Akaashi tuned it out, watching as Tsukishima sat on the floor between Bokuto’s thighs. Bokuto made no sudden jolts as he did with Akaashi before, and the boy decided he just caught him off guard.

That proved wrong, however, when he moved to grab Bokuto’s hand, a simple, comforting movement he did often. Bokuto instantly froze, pulling his hand away before moving to comb it through his hair. Akaashi blinked twice, before rubbing his eyes and standing up.

“I’m gonna get changed. Can we marathon F.R.I.E.N.D.S tonight?” He asked.

Kuroo made a noise of excitement as Akaashi moved to the study where his pyjamas were, pausing when he noticed the door was ajar. Cautiously, he pushed it open, scanning the room as he closed the door behind him. His eyes were instantly drawn to the heavy scent of Bokuto and the haphazardly placed mirror against the wall.

Akaashi narrowed his eyes, heart pounding in his ears. No way did Kuroo do anything, and the door was ajar. He crept towards the mirror, looking at the hook behind it where his mask would be. Or at least, should be.

The mask was on the ground, pushed halfway out of view in a bad attempt to keep it hidden. Akaashi’s thoughts swarmed with conclusions, the scent of Bokuto in the room, the moved mirror, mask on the floor. 

When Akaashi came back to the living room, sporting soft pyjamas, F.R.I.E.N.D.S was playing on the TV. Tsukishima hadn’t moved from the floor, but Kuroo was not lying so that his toes sat on Bokuto’s lap. Akaashi tried to smile as he passed in front of the old box TV, but failed, his face remaining expressionless as he moved to sit beside Bokuto. Bokuto seized up when he sat down, eyes instantly darting towards him in fear. Akaashi felt his face fall as he flickered his eyes down to his own hands and then back up to Bokuto, who still was too tense to be normal.

And Akaashi felt every bone in his body ache, because Bokuto knew, he must’ve. The way he flinched when he spoke, how Akaashi’s touch made him freeze broke his heart, made it shatter every time. He shook his head, brining his knees to his chest and scooching away from Bokuto in effort to stop his fear. He seemed to unwind after that, but the ache in Akaashi’s chest refused to subside.


	6. tear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if u want smut i only write gore bc im EdGY   
> maybe next chapter lmaooo

The entire space between Bokuto and Akaashi is littered with eggshells.

Not real ones, of course. But metaphorical, thin and delicate eggshells, so slight that one touch would shatter them like glass. Bokuto hasn’t said a thing, but Akaashi _knows_ , he can see it in the way Bokuto hesitates before touching him, or doesn’t touch him at all. He hasn’t kissed him in days, hasn't felt his arms around him torso in so long the touch feels phantom. 

Kuroo and Tsukishima must’ve noticed by now, and that’s the real trouble. Akaashi would’ve told Bokuto ages ago, would've confessed his existence like a sinner at confession, but the only thing that held him back was Kuroo anxiety, his nerves.

And if Bokuto knew about him, how long would it take until he figured Kuroo and Tsukishima were ghouls too? Akaashi felt his stomach twist with every new thought of disappointment, of disgust in his lovers’ eyes. It sunk low in his stomach, broiled the self hatred and anger that laid under his skin.

“Everything that could’ve been prevented is simply a consequence of holding oneself back,” Akaashi whispered. He looked down at his palms, staring at the skin stretched over bones and. It’s not long before he screamed, throwing his fist forwards into the mirror. It shattered instantly, falling to his feet as a thin dust. His knuckles come away perfect and unharmed, the action not giving him nearly enough satisfaction.

In a spur, he realized that Kuroo would have heard the noise of the glass breaking. With lightning speed, he locked the door, turning to the closet to pull out his battle-suit Kuroo had made. As he slipped out of the window, mask secured to his face, he head the door rattle, and the distant call of his name.

Akaashi didn’t look back, instantly jumping a few stories down onto another roof before running across the tops, his bare feet scratching against the tar. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he let his feet carry him across the city, passing over streets and alleys without looking down. He stopped when he came across an apartment building, the scent of weed and flesh rising from the windows. Akaashi steadied himself as his kakugan began to show at the prospect of easy meat, and within a moment, he had jumped over to the adjacent building, crashing through the window and sending glass shards flying.

Akaashi extended his ukaku kagune, piercing through anyone in the immediate vicinity in seconds. It wasn’t long before the people started to shriek, and the scent of blood overpowered the pot in seconds. Akaashi lunged forwards, rintaku already out to swipe through the apartment, slicing into any body that still stood. He licked his lips at the sight of fresh blood, bodies littered in heaps in front of him. It was too easy, killing fifteen humans, but Akaashi couldn't deny the hunger that was relieved when he let his teeth tear through a woman’s flesh, devouring her whole.

He made quick work of the bodies, gouging through muscle in bone in a matter of minutes. Despite the fulling feeling in his stomach, it did nothing to settle the restlessness that sent jitters through his limbs. Akaaashi pulled his arms forwards, cracking his shoulders as he slipped through the broken window, body frenzied and hardwired with a single destination in mind.

He barely felt control of his own movements as he bolted across the city towards the CCG’s main building, where he knew investigators would still be lingering. He barely felt in touch with his thoughts, the only thing that managed to race through his head being the thought of what could happen if he wasn’t strong enough.

Akaashi landed in front of the main entrance way, kagune already extended. He swiped through the few people milling about, send his ukaku shards through them in one swift movement before turning to face a stony faced man, with short cropped hair and a large, hammer like quinque. Akaashi grinned as he swung it down at him, dodging with ease. He turned, kicking the man in the back and sending him flying.

“Sawamura!” Someone yelled, and the man stood, spitting blood onto the ground.

“Everyone get back!” He shouted, lunging forward only for Akaashi’s rintaku arm to barrel into him. His quinque caught most of the blow, flying away from his grip, but Akaashi easily cut through the flesh of his shoulder, leaving a gash where his arm and chest connected.

Akaashi grinned, his tongue poking from his teeth with glee. “Do you walk on eggshells?” He said, taking a step forward and cocking his head. He could feel it, his kajuka rising from his body to plate his thighs and torso in an armour. He didn't have much time to rest, before another quinque was whipped towards his shoulder. Akaashi grabbed it with his rintaku, ripping it from the investigator who carried it and turning around to face him. He leaned down, taking a chunk from his neck.

Blood spewed as bullets, specifically designed to harm ghouls began firing. They did very little against Akaashi, who sent shards of ukaku back towards them, laughing at the way they screamed when attacked. It wasn’t a silver haired man, not much older than him approached, did things get interesting.

“Squad X, present,” He said, his face that of a secretary; polite, welcoming. “Sugawara Koushi, nice to meet you, Phoenix.”

Akaashi hissed, sending another wave of ukaku shards at him before rising up on his rintaku to jump onto Suga. Suga caught his leg, attempting to throw him down, only for Akaashi to lean back, catapulting Suga onto the ground, relishing in the crunch of bones he heard as he landed. 

Suga, no stranger to injury, stood, favouring his good leg as he swung his quinque at Akaashi, cutting through one of his many rintaku tentacles. Akaashi bore his teeth, spinning rapidly as he moved to stab Suga’s leg once more. Suga moved in time to save his life, causing Akaashi to scoff. The quinque was brought down one more time before he caught it just as it lodged into his calf. As Akaashi pulled it out, the muscle healed itself together, sewing closed in seconds as Suga stared in a mix of fear and wonder.

“Imagine having you as my quinque,” He muttered, just as Akaashi used his weapon to send him back another ten metres.

Another investigator began to attack, but he was much easier to deal with. Akaashi reached forwards, shoving his hand into the boy’s chest wrecking him forward. The boy coughed, blood spilling from his lips as Akaashi felt around his chest cavity for a single organ in particular. He closed his fingers around the heart, yanking it out and kicking the rest of the body back onto the ground. He swallowed the heart in one movement, chewing on the muscle, sending thick trails of blood down his cheeks. 

Akaashi couldn't keep himself from smiling, as anybody who tried to attack was killed as soon as they got too close. He could barely remember why he had came in the first place, was it a hunch? Fear? He didn't care, instead choosing to rip out a girl’s throat before feeling a hard thwack against his leg.

Akaashi rolled over to face an investigator with badly died hair that framed his bored face as he loomed over Akaashi. He tried to bring his quinque back down on him again, but Akaashi was quick to lean forwards and push him back, stabbing his sides with his kagune. The boy was resilient, and landed another blow on Akaashi’s kagune plated stomach. It didn't budge, but the pressure was enough to force him to recoil, giving the boy enough time to stand. Akaashi twisted his body, a sickening crack of ribs breaking filling the air as he spun so that his winged ukaku knocked his quinque from the boy’s hands. It went flying, and Akaashi kicked him down. 

“Kenma!” Another investigator yelled, throwing him a small weapon. “I can help-”

“Continue evacuations, and call backup. I’ll hold it off.” The boy, Kenma, responded, wiping blood from his lips as he spun the batik knife in his hand. He brought it down on Akaashi’s exposed collarbone, lodging it through his flesh. Akaashi hissed, piecing his arm with his kagune as he yanked the knife from his body. The small action gave Kenma enough time to step back, grab his quinque, and swing it down on Akaashi. 

Akaashi turned, spotting the weapon midair as it swung towards him. He grabbed the hilt, fighting Kenma’s strength to slow the weapons approach. Still, it’s momentum was enough to press into Akaashi’s neck, making it halfway through before Akaashi was able to push him, and the quinque, off. The weapon ripped from where it was lodged, and Kenma could only watch at the wound healed. It continued to bleed profusely, but the flesh has moulded back together, as his head wasn’t almost half hanging from his shoulders.

Akaashi coughed blood, spitting it onto Kenma’s face in spite. It took another moment for his throat to heal enough to screech, but when it did, he let out a scream loud enough to pierce through the cool winter air as he kicked forwards, landing his heel into Kenma’s chin and sending him flying backwards.

Akaashi, blood running from his neck, body aching, reached down for a dead body, ripping a hunk of flesh from it and downing it, hoping to regain enough strength to flee. In minutes, he had slipped back into the shadows where he came, running as fast as his bare feet would carry him. And as his kajuka retreated, leaving his torso bare, all he could think of was that he was headed towards home, soft arms and warm kisses and a bed where he bleed freely.

* * *

Bokuto sat in his kitchen, tapping his fingers against the countertop as he drank his coffee. It was too bitter for his liking, having run out of cream, sugar could only do so much to take the bite away. His mind lingered to the thought of his boyfriends, who all could withstand coffee in it’s pure form. He wrinkled his nose, and instantly regretted it.

It had dawned on him, of course, that they were all ghouls. It wouldn't make sense otherwise. Akaashi was a give in, of course, but Kuroo, who had the mask and new scars every week to show for it, Tsukishima, who’s eyes almost seemed to glow red when angry, much like the ghoul- Akaashi- he had seen the alley. They never ate, avoided the first four wards like the plague, and, god, how could Bokuto be so stupid?

And yet, he couldn't help but feel like it didn't change much. Were they buttering him up like a meal, or were they simply the same lovers who would curl around him to sleep? Was Kuroo still the same Kuroo who kissed him softly in the middle of the day? Was Tsukishima the same Tsukishima who would throw snide remarks his way until the both of them were blushing, realizing it was supposed to be a compliment? Was Akaashi still Akaashi, beautiful, kind, smart Akaashi, even though he murders hoards of people day come day?

Bokuto didn't have long to process his thoughts, a loud crash snapping him from his daze. He followed the source of the noise to his door, throwing it open only to have none other than the object of his worries, Akaashi himself, fall into his arms, masks still on, all visible skin soaked in ruby red blood.

Bokuto’s heart stopped at the sight, his eyes instantly widening as he pulled Akaashi’s mask from his face, revealing lidded eyes. They focused to meet Bokuto’s and he watched as they turned from black and red to their normal blue, Akaashi falling deadweight into his arms once again.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto choked, lifting him up and carrying him towards the bathroom.

“I’m okay,” Akaashi whispered. “Tired.”

Bokuto couldn’t get another word in before Akaashi dozed off, eyes shutting as he nestled deeper into Bokuto’s shirt, that was now heavily coated in blood. Bokuto set Akaashi into the bath, turning on the tap as he wrestled him out of his clothes, that had amazingly repelled the blood enough to only be slightly damp. Bokuto tossed them into the sink, to wash later. 

Bokuto grabbed a towel, soaking it in water to clean away the thick clot of blood at his neck. The wound looked serious, and if it wasn’t for Akaashi’s peaceful expression and steadily rising chest, Bokuto would think he was dying, with how much blood had pooled. The wound on his collarbone, Bokuto revealed, was completely healed once he wiped away the blood, leaving only an angry pink scar and bruising in its wake. Akaashi neck was another story.

Bokuto watched as it continued to heal as he worked, trying his best to stop the bleeding as the flesh sewed itself back shut. The gash was clotting by the time he had finished wiping the blood, leaving a scab that traced a semi circle around his neck. Bokuto’s stomach flipped at the thought of what could've caused that wound.

He let Akaashi soak in the water until his skin was flawless again, and the water had turned a peculiar shade of pink. Hoisting his body from the tub, Bokuto drained the water, grabbing Akaashi’s clothes to throw into the laundry as he brought him back towards his bedroom. Akaashi stirred at the movement, not enough to wake, but enough to curl into Bokuto’s embrace a second longer as he moved to lay him on the bed.

Bokuto slipped Akaashi into one of his sweaters and a pair of boxers, rolling them so that they’d fit. With care, he slipped Akaashi underneath the covers, instinctively moving to wrap his arms around his torso and press their foreheads together.

And Bokuto realized something as he watched Akaashi sleep, the scab on his neck healing to merely a scar before his eyes. He loved him, he loved him, he loved him more than he cared for the idea of danger. He loved Akaashi, and Kuroo, and Tsukishima, who were all themselves despite who they were when Bokuto wasn’t aware. Bokuto didn't care, because the fear of seeing Akaashi covered in blood, whether his or someone else’s, was enough to make him see that he only wished for him to be alright.

So Bokuto, with Akaashi curled into his chest, opened his laptop to a new page, and spent the night scrolling through page after page, article after article, reading about ghouls. The more he read, the more he could feel panic threatening to rise. Bokuto pushed it down, holding Akaashi tighter as he read on.

_For them,_ He thought, _For them._

* * *

Akaashi woke enveloped in a warm duvet, body aching, mattress too soft to be his own. He blinked his eyes open, untangling his arms from the blankets to rub his eyes as he sat up, observing the room around him. He wasn’t at home, rather, at Bokuto’s, lying in his bed alone.

Panic began to rise as Akaashi raked his brain for what could've caused him to go there in the first place. Memories were murky and muted, tangible enough that he knew he was fighting, but not enough that he could understand who. Akaashi shifted, kicking his legs from the covers. He was wearing Bokuto’s clothes, the scent comforting enough to slow his racing heart. Akaashi took a deep breath as he stood, noting the mask and clothing folded nicely on the bedside table. 

There were others in the apartment, that much he could tell. Through the walls, he could hear shuffling, voices speaking in a hushed whisper, our enough to still be audible through the walls. Akaashi, body still heavy with sleep, opened the door to the living room, slipping out to see Kuroo, Tsukishima and Bokuto, stood in the centre of the room. Kuroo whipped around to face him, seething with anger as he approached.

“Akaashi, what the fuck were you doing?” Kuroo spat. “Why the hell did you-”

“Kuroo, stop.” Bokuto said, voice low. “He didn't hurt me.”

“But he could’ve! He’s a _ghoul_.” Kuroo said, voice heavy as he turned to Bokuto.

Akaashi looked over to Tsukishima, who looked torn as Kuroo fumed, hands moving to tug on his hair.

“I know Kuroo.” Bokuto said, voice calm. “I figured it out.”

Kuroo froze, eyes wide, lips parted. Tsukishima coughed, eyes flickingfrom Bokuto to Akaashi in disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak, but Bokuto cut him off.

“There was so much blood, but he’s okay. You can’t get angry at him-” 

“You don't know what happened, Bokuto. You have no idea, and so does he.” Kuroo said, voice shaking. He looked over to Akaashi, who had taken a step back, eyes narrowed. “You don’t remember, do you?”

Akaashi’s face fell as he raked his brain once more for answers to what happened that night. There was glass shattering, screaming, a large wound on his neck. 

“Give me a moment,” He murmured, moving to sit on the kitchen counter to steady himself.

“No, you don’t get that.” Kuroo spat. “You attacked _doves_ , Akaashi, you could've been killed. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t!” Akaashi snapped. 

“Kuroo, stop.” Tsukishima interjected. 

Kuroo didn't stop, continuing to stalk towards Akaashi. “Then, you go to Bokuto, while you’re in a state where you can’t tell right from wrong, and by some miracle, don't kill him.”

“Kuroo!” Bokuto shouted, causing Kuroo’s head to whip over to him. “I’m right, aren’t I? You’re all ghouls. You all could’ve killed me at any moment.”

Kuroo’s chest heaved as he stumbled back against the wall, leaning up to it for support. His face had fallen, eyes softening as he looked over to Bokuto with a mix of guilt and fear in his eyes. Akaashi looked form him to Tsukishima, who was the first to speak.

“How’d you know?” He asked, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Bokuto shrugged, smiling slightly. “I found Akaashi’s mask, and that gave him away. From there, it was easy, I guess. Kuroo has a mask, none of you guys eat. I googled it, and they say ghouls heal really fast, you guys always have disappearing scars.”

Akaashi took a shaky breath, calming his lungs, rubbing his eyes in fear that he’d start to cry. Kuroo was shaking his head, taking another step back as he moved to grip onto his hair again.

“I was so _stupid_ , so, _so_ stupid.” He whispered. “Akaashi wanted to tell you from the start, but I said no, and instead, we’re here, and you hate me, you hate us don’t you?” He asked, looking up. Bokuto’s heart dropped as he faced Kuroo, who’s breathing was ragged, eyes frenzied.

Bokuto took a step forwards, wrapping his arms around Kuroo and pulling him close. He held him tightly, making sure that Kuroo’s face was pressed to his shoulder as dry sobs tore through him. 

“I don’t care.” Bokuto said. “I don’t care.”

And Kuroo tears brimming in his eyes, let his body go lax in Bokuto’s arms, let him embrace him through his tears. It would be so easy, to leave it at that, to kiss and makeup, but reality knocks on your door whenever called, and this was son exception.

“Bokuto,” Tsukishima said, voice dangerously low. “You have to know what you’re getting into here.”

“I do.” Bokuto protested.

“We _murder_ people, Bokuto.” Tsukishima said. “Violently, often. We’re dangerous, we have people who want to kill us attacking us every other week.”

“I told you, that doesn't matter.” Bokuto told him.

“The penalty for harbouring ghouls is death.” Tsukishima warned. “Are you _sure_?”

The room was silent as they waited for Bokuto’s answer. Kuroo lifted his head from Bokuto’s chest to look him in the eye, eyes wide and worried as he stared at him. Bokuto took a deep breath, nodding, and instantly, the tension dissolved from the room as Akaashi jumped onto him, wrapping his arms around him and planting a kiss on his cheek. Bokuto giggled as he moved to kiss Kuroo, before turning to Tsukishima, who met him with his own lips, kissing Akaashi softly before he pulled away with a smile.

Bokuto’s heart fluttered just watching the scene in from of him. The world could wait, reality could stay at the door.

* * *

The best part about everything being in the open was not having to hide. They never really ate in front of him, but Tsukishima did confess that the red wine was actually blood, and Bokuto was instantly grateful that he never decided to try it.

Kuroo shot Bokuto a smile from across his workshop. Bokuto had never seen the backroom, and now he knew why. The details on both his and Akaaashi’s masks became a thousand times more impressive when he found out that Kuroo was the one who made them. He walked around, admiring the few masks that were laid out on display. Kuroo was finishing up work before they went out for coffee with Akaashi and Tsukishima, and Bokuto had managed to let Kuroo allow him into his studio. So far, no ghouls had turned up, that being Kuroo’s only fear, and Bokuto was enjoying himself just being with Kuroo.

Kuroo stretched his arms over his head, yawning as he stood up from his work table. Bokuto grinned as he moved towards him, grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers as they exited the building. 

The city streets were busy with people, laughing and running past. Kids whizzed by on their bikes, one after another, nearly knocking Bokuto over as he moved to enter the coffee shop. He spotted Akaashi and Tsukishima immediately, bounded towards them, tugging Kuroo along behind. He laughed as Bokuto sat down beside Tsukishima, instantly scooting closer as Akaashi passed him a cup of coffee.

“So you all have to take your coffee black?” Bokuto asked as he sipped his own, relishing in the creaminess of added luxuries.

Akaashi nodded at the same time Tsukishima answered. “It’s the only way we can taste it normally.”

Bokuto sighed, realizing what they meant. He continued to sip away as the conversation moved forwards, Kuroo ranting about some woman he had to deal with on the subway who thought she could let her kid run up and down the train. They were all laughing, smiles on their faces, not a care in the world, until Akaashi’s face, dropped.

Kuroo and Tsukishima followed his line of sight, settling on a boy, not much older than them, carrying a metal briefcase. Bokuto cocked his head, confused as they turned back to him, faces cautious, the light mood now gone.

“Bokuto,” Akaashi said, brushing his foot against his own under the table. “If you ever see someone with a briefcase like that when we’re out, tell us, okay?”

Bokuto nodded. “Are they the CCG workers?” He asked.

Akaashi nodded, leaning back and sipping at his drink. “We call them doves. Just be careful when you see them, alright?”

Bokuto nodded, reaching across the table to grab Akaashi’s hand, running his thumb along his palm.

Outside, the wind howled, a storm approaching. The dove left, not sparing them a second glance. And Bokuto stayed, with the people he loved most, drinking coffee in a small café, not aware of the storm brewing outside of the door.

**Author's Note:**

> come chat w/ me about this on my tumblr, spacegaykj!


End file.
